


The Death of Allison Cameron

by MiladyDragon



Series: Allison Cameron - Tomorrow Person [2]
Category: House M.D., Tomorrow People
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Crossover, F/M, Implied Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 74,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiladyDragon/pseuds/MiladyDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cameron apparently dies in an automobile accident, House and John discover there is much more there than it seemed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Death of Allison Cameron

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second story in the "Allison Cameron: Tomorrow Person" series, and it was written in 2006-2007.

 

Although she wouldn't realize it, Allison Cameron's actions on that winter night were what would lead to her death.

It started with a simple stop at her neighborhood grocery. It had been a long day at work; there hadn't been a new case in almost a week, and she'd been so bored she'd actually welcomed the hypochondriacs who frequented the clinic. It hadn't helped that House had been at his worst, behaving like the complete asshole everyone who worked with him knew lurked just beneath his misogynistic surface.

The weather was dreadful. It had been snowing for the last twelve hours, and while the plows had come through, the white flakes just seemed to keep piling up. Cameron had been tempted to jaunt to the hospital that morning – yet another advantage of being the next stage in human evolution was the ability to teleport – but she'd stifled the reflex. It had been her decision to act as normally as possible, and that meant her car had to appear in the parking lot every morning, in spite of shitty weather. Too bad she couldn't jaunt the vehicle with her…

The grocery was just around the corner from her apartment. As she'd been driving past, she'd remembered that she was out of a couple of things, and if the snow kept falling she might very well be stranded at home in the morning. So, she maneuvered her car gingerly into the lot, the tires spinning just a little on the slick asphalt. Cameron cursed the weather, cursed her wish to keep the semblance of "normal"…and above all cursed as her vehicle nearly went into the side of the cart corral. She sat there, catching her breath and surprised that the air hadn't turned blue from all her foul language, then turned the engine off and made her cautious way into the store.

It was deserted, with only a single cashier and a man who appeared to be the manager inside to keep her company. Cameron quickly gathered the few items she needed, and made her way to the check out. She smiled sympathetically to the woman on the register, and was rewarded with an equally sympathetic smile in return.

The bags actually seemed to balance her progress back across the icy parking lot. The doctor stowed them in the passenger front seat, then used the car's warm hood to support her way around to the driver's side.

That was when she heard the engine.

Cameron glanced around, actually surprised that there was someone as stupid as herself out on an afternoon like this. The dark car was fishtailing slightly as it neared the front of the lot.

Toward where she was currently parked.

In normal circumstances, Cameron wouldn't have been too concerned. It was a large lot, with plenty of room for at least a hundred cars. But today, with the weather so appalling, she found herself watching nervously as the mid-size vehicle made its uncertain way in her direction.

And then it went suddenly out of control.

The tires made an odd squealing noise on the icy pavement, and the rear of the car was facing in Cameron's direction. Then it spun in a complete circle, heading right toward her once more.

Her heart stuttered to a halt, then began racing. Cameron could have jaunted, but her first response to the danger was to concentrate all her mental might on the approaching danger.

Allison Cameron grabbed the car with her considerable telekinetic ability and made it _stop_.

The rear bumper was mere inches from her knees when the vehicle halted.

Cameron released the breath she wasn't even aware she'd been holding. Her legs felt like rubber, and she sagged against the side of her own car. Her head was pounding in fast time, matching her heartbeat. That had been _way_ too close…

"Are you okay?"

She managed to turn. The store manager was sliding toward her as fast as he could, his face pale in the harsh winter daylight.

"I…I'm fine," she stammered, not quite believing what she'd just done. Of all her abilities, telekinesis had been her strongest, and she'd been practicing it a lot ever since she'd re-entered the Tomorrow Person fold. But she'd never tried anything like that before.

The driver of the other car had stumbled out from behind the wheel, staring at Cameron as if he was seeing a ghost. "Oh, God…" his voice actually squeaked. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened, I just couldn't control it…"

"It's okay…I'm okay…" she tried to reassure both men. Truth be told, all Cameron wanted to do was slide down to the pavement and cry.

Then she felt something strange; a slight touch on her mind, as if someone were trying to stroke her very brain.

Cameron spun, almost losing her balance on the ice. Her eyes searched for the source of the sensation, but there was only herself, the manager, and the man who'd almost succeeded in doing what four alien races, a government think tank, and various nutjobs hadn't been able to accomplish.

She regained her equilibrium quickly. The store manager and the other driver were looking at her closely. "Everything's okay," she reiterated. She nodded to the driver. "Luckily you were able to stop in time."

"Not so sure it was luck," the man answered shakily. "The car just seemed to stop on its own."

"Probably retired a guardian angel tonight," the manager said.

"You're not kidding!" the driver exclaimed.

"Look, I don't think we need the police or anything," Cameron replied. "No one was hurt, just terrified out of their wits."

The driver looked relieved. "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure," she insisted. "I just want to go home."

"You going to be okay driving?" the manager asked.

"I'll be fine. Believe me." Cameron would have given anything to be able to just jaunt to the safety of her apartment and forget everything that had happened.

"Okay, miss." The manager turned back toward the store, his arms around him to ward off the chill. He'd run out without a coat on.

Cameron smiled weakly at the driver, who appeared to take the gesture for what it was worth. He returned to his car and shut off the engine, then headed into the store himself.

Once inside the safety of her vehicle, Cameron allowed herself the pleasure of a good cry. She didn't let herself linger though; she wanted to be home so badly it was like a compulsion.

She drove the rest of the way carefully, wanting nothing to put the night behind her. And by the time she was showered and comfortably ensconced on her couch, she'd even managed to forget about the eerie mental touch as well…

 

* * *

 

Three days later…another snowstorm.

Cameron sighed as she climbed behind the wheel of her car. Why, oh why couldn't she just give up normality for jaunting? She was a complete and utter idiot!

She pulled out of the parking garage and into near-white-out conditions. God, she wished it were Friday instead of Thursday, then she'd be going home and hibernating for one of her few weekends off! This weather was the worst the area had had in a while, and she was sick of it. Oh well, at least she had Danielle's monthly lunch visit to look forward to tomorrow. And Danielle didn't have to worry about leaving a car in the parking lot just so she'd appear normal!

Cameron didn't consider herself as particularly suicidal, but she had to wonder at her mental condition as she drove at a snails' pace toward her place. The windshield wipers thumped solidly, keeping her focused on what was ahead.

No one seemed to be out on the road, which just proved to Cameron that she was really, really stupid. The radio announcer was saying that the police were encouraging people to stay indoors, and that was just what Cameron intended to do once she arrived at her apartment.

She was tempted to put on her sunglasses, to battle the glare. But that would mean she'd have to root around in her bag for them, and she didn't want to split her attention for a second. It was hard enough dealing with the conditions as it was.

Cameron barely saw the light turning red ahead. She carefully pumped on the brakes, bringing the car to a gentle stop. A snowplow crossed the intersection in front of her, its yellow lights strobing brilliantly in the swirling snow.

As she was waiting for the light to change, she felt an odd presence touch her mind oh-so-gently.

She was tempted to call the other Tomorrow People, to see if one of them were trying to reach her, but it would have to wait. The light changed, and she was driving again, and she still didn't want to get distracted. While speaking telepathically was second nature, it still took some concentration. If it _were_ one of her "family," they would understand why she was ignoring them.

Cameron pulled up to another light. This was taking about three times as long as it usually did, and she was getting stressed out…

The presence touched her again, and this time it was stronger than before.

She didn't recognize it. It wasn't one of her fellow Tomorrow People…or at least not one she'd met. Cameron didn't kid herself that she knew every TP that had ever broken out.

Then she wondered if it _was_ someone breaking out, coming into their powers and reaching out to whoever was close. Damn, and it had to happen in the middle of a snowstorm!

Cameron was just about to call to John and tell him what was going on, when the light changed to green. Almost as if on cue, the telepathic presence gained in intensity again, and she had to stifle a cry at the sudden throbbing it caused. It was like getting a migraine.

There was no choice, she had to pull over and try to find whoever it was trying to contact her. She spotted an empty parking lot to just in front of her, and carefully maneuvered her car into it. Cameron braked gently, not caring how the car came to a halt. There wasn't anyone around to complain.

She settled back into her seat, opening her mind to the presence. Before she had a chance to try to call out to it, it came at her with an intensity that stole her breath and made her want to scream. This wasn't a break-out; this was something completely different.

This was alien.

It attacked her, making it impossible for Cameron to respond in any way. Her thoughts scattered, and she was unable to pull back enough concentration to call for help. All she could do was sit there, and let whoever it was plunge itself deeply into her consciousness like a knife into melting butter.

She was completely helpless under the onslaught.

There was only one thing she could do. Cameron pulled herself deep into her own mind, hoping to escape the punishment she was receiving. The presence seemed to feel her retreat, and followed, not letting her escape.

She screamed, but whether it was physical or mental she couldn't have said. The pain was so bad it blocked out everything except the agony itself.

She couldn't see, couldn't hear…couldn't respond in any way.

And Allison Cameron felt herself dying.

 

* * *

 

Dr. Gregory House wasn't even in his apartment for five minutes when the phone rang.

He cursed, then decided to ignore it. He limped forward, stripping his sodden leather jacket off as he headed toward the shelf where he kept his favorite scotch. As much as he loved his motorcycle, it was just this weather that made him rethink the whole thing. He was chilled to the bone, and soaked through, and all he wanted was to warm himself up – both inside and outside – and play a few bars on his piano before catching up on the soap he'd Tivo'd that day.

The machine picked up the call on the fourth ring. "Look, I apparently don't want to talk to you, so why go to all the bother of leaving a message?" _Beep!_

"House," came the voice of his boss, Dr. Lisa Cuddy, out of the speaker. "I know you're there, House, and believe me the last thing I want to do is talk to you after having to deal with you for eight hours, but it's important."

She paused, and House waved his hand toward the machine as if motioning her to continue. She complied. "Pick up the damned phone, House!" The urgency in her words made them crack. "It's about Dr. Cameron – "

That got his attention. He stumped quickly to the instrument, picking it up as if it were a dead fish. "Sorry, she's in the shower. Maybe you should call back later – "

"Shut the fuck up, and listen to me!"

The retort he'd had planned were replaced by shock. To his knowledge, Cuddy had never used the "f" word in his presence before.

Into the silence, she spoke again. "House, Cameron was in a car accident…"

His heart jammed up in his chest. "Are they bringing her there?" He managed to get the words out even as he was heading toward the door again.

"No, House, she's…" Cuddy's voice choked.

He stopped dead, the pain that always accompanied him completely forgotten. "Where is she, Cuddy?" His own voice was thick with an emotion he didn't want to admit to.

And when she told him, he dropped the phone.

* * *

House's feet skidded on the tile as he moved as quickly as he could down the hallway. It stank of antiseptic, and if he thought he'd been cold while riding…well, he'd been wrong. This was the chill of death, and death was the one thing he'd always fought against. And, on the whole, he'd been victorious.

But this was the county morgue. There was no way in hell he could fight this place.

"Hey!"

The surprised voice followed him as House limped toward the double doors at the end of that seemingly endless corridor. The pain in his leg was drowned out by the agony in his chest. This just couldn't be happening!

He wouldn't believe until he saw it with his own eyes, which was why he'd driven like a crazy person with a suicide wish in a near blizzard to be there, walking down that cold sterile hall.

House finally pushed his way through the doors, accompanied by another yell from behind him. The room beyond was even colder, if that were possible. Harsh lighting hit him in the face, making his eyes squint against the glare. Four metal tables were evenly spaced across his field of vision, with various other smaller tables and shelves around them. In the wall beyond were the cabinets where the bodies were kept, small white cards marking several of them.

But House's attention was focused on the second table in.

_She was there_.

He took an unsteady step forward, his entire focus on the form lying naked on the table in front of him. He'd lost count of the times he'd fantasized seeing her like this, completely open to him.

But this wasn't the surroundings he'd ever dreamed of.

Only the shaky hold on his cane kept him from sinking to the floor in despair. A hundred things went through his mind at once, before it shut down completely.

House had no idea how long he stood there, staring at the body of Allison Cameron as it lay slackly on its slab. It couldn't have been very long, yet it seemed like an eternity before a voice managed to cut through the fugue he'd descended into.

"I'm sorry, but you can't be in here."

He managed to drag his eyes away from the table where _she_ was laying, to look down at the shorter man who was standing next to him. The white lab coat, scrubs, and sterile gloves gave him away as the coroner on duty.

"How did she die?" House managed to rasp.

The man tried to look comforting, but it totally failed to do anything of the sort. "Are you family?" he asked instead of answering the question.

The cold of the room was completely drowned out by the heat of House's rage. "How in fuck's sake did she die?" he growled, grabbing the man by the lapels.

He heard the doors open behind him, but the guy he was grasping shook his head, and the doors closed once more. "Please, I know you're upset – "

"That doesn't even cover how I'm feeling." And it didn't. Not by a long shot.

"Let's just try and calm down, Mister…"

"Doctor."

That seemed to surprise the coroner just a bit. "Were you the lady's primary physician then?"

"No. Her boss."

"I…see. Please, let me go and we can discuss this."

House uncurled his fists slowly. They'd cramped just in the time he'd been holding the guy. "Then discuss. I want to know _everything_."

The coroner motioned him toward the table, apparently deciding that giving the distraught stranger what he wanted was the best course of action. House followed, doing everything he could do to control his emotions. He had to look at this like it was a case, not the woman he…well, he didn't dare go in that direction.

As he circled the slab, he caught sight of what must have been the main cause of death: the entire left side of Cameron's face had been crushed. Glancing down he also noticed that her shoulder, arm, and chest also showed sign of being damaged. He thanked a God he really didn't believe in that her eyes were closed; he doubted he could have kept the calm he'd managed to dredge up if they'd been open.

"As you can see," the man began, "the C.O.D. was severe force trauma to the cranium, resulting in critical brain injury. Crushing injuries are also apparent all along the left side, especially in the upper and lower arm, clavicle, and chest cavity. I don't have the actual police report of the incident, but I can have the officer from the scene come in and speak with you about the reason for the damage."

The coroner's professional tone actually kept House from attaining the detachment he truly needed. The man was talking about Cameron… _his_ Cameron! How dare he be so dispassionate about it? "Call him." If he'd been thinking straight, House would have been appalled to hear the pain in those two words.

"Very well." He went to the nearby phone.

House dismissed him instantly. His hand involuntarily went to the uninjured side of Cameron's face. He shuddered at the waxy feel of the icy skin under his fingers. How often had he wanted to touch her just like this? But he'd been so sure that her feelings were only because of his disability, that she'd only cared because he was "damaged." He'd done everything in his power to push her away.

Now, he just wanted to gather her up in his arms and hold her.

He stared down into that face, slack and cold in death. House bit back a sardonic laugh. Allison Cameron's life had been full of danger, and he'd believed that when death finally came for her, it would have been on some alien world, far away from him and the planet of her birth. He'd thought that he'd somehow get the news from one of her fellow Tomorrow People.

Now, he might be the one to break the news to _them_.

"Excuse me."

House's head snapped around, pissed beyond belief at the interruption of his time alone with Cameron…no, Allison. Now that she was gone, it was safe to call her by her first name.

The woman who'd spoken stood a few feet away. She was dressed in full uniform, down to the gun belted at her well-muscled waist. Her graying hair was pulled back from her strong face in a bun, and her blue eyes were far more sympathetic than the coroner's had been. "I'm Sergeant O'Connor," she went on. "I'm very sorry for your loss, sir."

"Just tell me what happened." His voice was rough with need.

"Yes, sir." She sighed. "Ms Cameron – "

"Doctor," House corrected absently.

"Doctor Cameron," the police officer changed the honorific without missing a beat, "was driving when she lost control of her vehicle while trying to stop at a light. The car slid through the intersection, where it was struck by a snowplow. I don't know if it's a comfort to you, but I doubt she felt anything."

House let the comforting final words wash over him. Of course she would have died instantly, judging from the facial and cranial trauma.

He could imagine it: Allison trying to bring the car back under control, and not even seeing the plow as it rumbled toward her. Had the driver tried to warn her? Had there been time even for that? It must have happened so fast…she'd been unable to jaunt her way out of the danger that had literally crushed the life from her.

House suddenly felt the need to get out of that room; away from the body that lay there so quietly. He took an unsteady step backward, and his bad leg turned the wrong way. He felt himself falling.

But he didn't hit the ground.

Sergeant O'Connor grabbed him by the arm, helping him regain his balance. "Can I get you something, sir?" she asked concernedly.

"Get me the hell out of here," he whispered. He couldn't look at her anymore. He couldn't stand the thought that this was how he would always remember her: her broken body laid out on a coroner's slab, her dignity stolen away along with her life.

The officer led him out of the morgue, her hand solicitously on his elbow. If he'd been in his right mind, House would have been mortified by it. But his mind was back in the room with Allison Cameron, and it was a vision that would haunt him for a very long time.

 

* * *

 

House entered his apartment, not even bothering to remove his jacket. It just didn't matter to him any more.

Sergeant O'Connor had driven him back, after promising that his motorcycle would be well looked after. He'd nodded absently, still lost in the horror that was Allison Cameron's dead body lying in that cold, lonely morgue.

Why her? That lone thought swirled in his brain like a dervish. Allison had been an amazing young woman, and he'd been one of the few that she'd trusted with her closest secret – that she wasn't human, but _Homo Superior_ , the next stage in evolution, with powers and responsibilities that 99 9/10 of the people on this planet didn't have a clue even existed. She'd been to other worlds, seen wonders…hell, she'd _performed_ wonders, all in the name of protecting the Earth from anyone who'd chosen to damage it.

And he'd never told her how much he'd admired her for it.

Sure, it had taken him a while to understand just what motivated her into putting her life in danger, especially since there was one thing she _couldn't_ do: she couldn't kill, not even to save her own life. House had considered that a true weakness in her, but eventually he came to know that that was what made her – and the other Tomorrow People – so special: their willingness to do whatever it took, even if it meant they were choosing certain death because of this inability to protect themselves in the ultimate way. Allison had actually saved his life; that should have brought them closer, but instead it seemed to push her away, and House knew it was because she didn't want to see him in danger anymore, not because of what she was.

It was funny, how comfortable he was now, thinking of her as _Allison_.

He stumbled over to the drinks shelf, pouring himself an unhealthy amount of scotch. All House wanted to do was get completely sloshed, and try to forget what he'd seen in that morgue. It was probably the only way he'd get any sleep that night…

He was tipping back the glass when he noticed the phone on the floor. Absently, House recalled dropping it there, when Cuddy had finally been able to tell him what had happened. He shrugged, not really caring if it stayed there; he wasn't about to return any of the three messages that were flashing on his machine. He didn't intend on even listening to them.

It just didn't matter.

He collapsed on the couch, accidentally spilling a bit of his drink on his pants. He considered the waste of alcohol, glanced at the nearly full bottle on the shelf, and dismissed it. The scotch burned his throat pleasantly, and it comforted him a bit.

House wanted to be angry – at himself for feeling this way, and at Allison Cameron for dying. While she hadn't shared a lot of what went on in those times she'd been summoned away, he'd seen some of the marks left by her life. Yes, she'd only made herself available to her fellow Tomorrow People only when they absolutely needed her, but when those times came it usually involved something potentially deadly. He could still see her that time she'd shown up as a patient in their own clinic, claiming that she'd been mugged. Of course, House had known differently. He'd never been able to wheedle it out of her, despite his best efforts. It had taken him calling Tim, and the supercomputer had given him some of the details.

He once again stared at the phone. Did the other Tomorrow People know? How could they? And if they somehow were aware of what had happened…they'd be here, wouldn't that? At least John would…Allison and John had been very close, in a way that had made House jealous. There hadn't been anything romantic in it; it had been a sort of trust that was so totally complete it practically shown in her to the point that House could always tell when the two of them were speaking telepathically.

House sighed. He had to believe that they didn't know about Allison. Levering himself off the couch, he made his shambling way over to the handset lying on the floor. It took him a couple of half-hearted tries to pick it up, and he was hitting speed-dial almost before he was aware of doing it.

"Good evening, Greg," came the calm, warm voice of the Tomorrow People's artificial intelligence. "It has been a while since you last phoned. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

House opened his mouth to speak…and nothing came out. He couldn't formulate the words, not even to return Tim's greeting. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to hang up, get blinding drunk, and to hell with anything else.

They obviously _didn't_ know.

There was a pause, then Tim spoke again, sounding worried. "Greg, are you there? I recognize your telephone number from my caller identification program. Is there something wrong? Are you ill?"

Was he ill? No, that wasn't the case at all. Well, maybe sick at heart…not that he ever wanted to admit that to anyone…

"Greg, I can hear your breathing. I shall send help at once." There was another pause. "I have contacted John, and he is jaunting to you immediately. I have attempted to reach Allison, however she is not answering. Therefore I must assume that this call is about her…"

Oh, yes. Tim understood immediately. House collapsed back onto the couch, letting the phone fall from his hand. He could hear Tim's voice, trying to be reassuring, echoing from the receiver.

"Dr. House?"

This voice was in the room with him. House glanced up; John stood there, his usually stern face looking worried. He didn't pretend that the concern was for himself.

The leader of the Tomorrow People sat beside House on the sofa, picking up the phone to move it out of the way. He was a handsome man, with silvering hair and intense eyes. He was perhaps fifty, or a little older, but there was something in his manner that made him appear to be far, far wiser than his years.

He sniffed, wrinkling his nose. "Have you been drinking?" he demanded, his entire demeanor changing from worry to disapproval.

That condescending tone brought House out of the numb state he'd fallen into. He resisted the urge to hit the smug bastard. "Oh, I forgot…you high-and-mighty _Homo Superior_ aren't prone to _normal_ people's bad habits," he snapped.

John sat back a bit, as if unsure just what House was going to do. "I'll contact you when I know something," he said into the phone. He broke the connection, placing the receiver onto the coffee table. "What is it? It's about Allison, isn't it? Neither Tim nor I have been able to reach her. Has she been hurt?"

"You could say that." John's attitude had knocked House's tongue loose, and he explained to the Tomorrow Person what had happened. His voice broke a couple of times, but other than that he was very proud of himself for getting the entire thing out.

It all boiled down to one thing: Allison Cameron was dead, and House knew life would never be the same…for himself and for anyone else she'd known.

And this man sitting next to him would be just as devastated.

But John wasn't reacting the way House had believed he would. His eyes had gone wide with shock, but that didn't stay. There was only one word for what House was seeing.

Denial.

John was in denial that Allison was gone.

He was shaking his head, as House wound down. He could understand: he'd felt the same way until he'd seen it for himself. He stifled the shudder that threatened to accompany that mental picture.

"It's true," he said, trying to convince the man. "I saw…her."

John's eyes narrowed. "You saw Allison's body?" His voice was whip-sharp.

House didn't appreciate that tone. "Lying in the morgue, just as real as you please," he snapped in return. Out of spite he went on to catalogue the injuries that had led to her death, in terribly gruesome detail.

If he thought it would shock John into accepting it, he was seriously mistaken. His face did go a bit pale, but that was the only reaction House got. "It's not possible." He got up and began to pace.

"I thought that, too. Until I saw her there…" House's sudden burst of spite abruptly ended, leaving him drained and actually feeling a bit sorry for the other man.

"You don't understand." John stopped pacing, turning to stare directly at House. "Allison can't be dead, because I would _know_."

House's eyes narrowed at that pronouncement. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Dr. House…Greg…" It sounded odd for John to address him by his first name. "When a Tomorrow Person dies, every other TP knows it. We…feel it, the last echo of thought as the mind fades." He looked haunted, and House had to wonder just how many times he'd experienced it himself.

"And…you didn't feel anything like that from…Cameron?" Calling her Allison to another person just didn't feel right.

"Nothing. In point of fact, until Tim got your call, neither one of us had any idea anything was wrong. We'd not heard from Allison since yesterday."

_John would have felt her die_. That thought ran like a rat around his brain. Now House had something else he had to reconcile…seeing Allison's body, but knowing that the one person she'd cared for more than anyone would have known if she'd been killed.

"What do you sense now?"

John sat back down, his brows drawing down. His eyes unfocussed. "I can't sense her at all. It's as if she's being blocked somehow." He looked back at House. "But she's not dead."

House went from despair to actual joy in the course of a heartbeat. He found himself quite unable to breathe. While he and John didn't get along all that well – most of their dust-ups had been about Allison, in fact – he knew he could trust the other man's abilities. And if he said that Allison wasn't dead…

"Okay, I'm willing to accept what you say," House said slowly.

"I hear a 'but' in that sentence."

Irritation set back in. There was just something about the elder Tomorrow Person that just pushed House's buttons. " _If_ Cameron is still alive, then whose body is that in the morgue?"

 

* * *

 

It was amazing just how quickly John had managed to convince House that Cameron was still alive.

He did consider the idea that it was because he _wanted_ her to be alive, and not out of some sort of masochistic sense of causing himself more that the usual amount of pain. He just couldn't face the idea of Allison being so irrevocably _dead_ …

This sense of not believing in her death – despite having seen the best possible evidence of it having actually occurred – was surprising. House has always prided himself on his pragmatism, which had carried him past so much of his own personal agony. This was far beyond him, and it bothered him quite a lot. How could he hope to function if he were getting…soft?

He watched as John began to pace once more. By the look in the other man's eyes, he was obviously speaking telepathically, and he assumed the man was talking to Tim. And while House would ordinarily be royally pissed off at this cavalier attitude, of having a private conversation in front of him, this time he accepted it. It meant that John was working on the problem.

House used the opportunity to take a drink. To hell with the condescending asshole…

It also allowed House a chance to think.

Just what had happened? If that wasn't Allison Cameron in the morgue…then it was someone who looked disturbingly like her. Plastic surgery, maybe? And what would be the reason to fake Allison's death? Did it have something to do with her being a Tomorrow Person? That had to be it: she'd somehow brought attention on herself, and that attention had caused her to be taken somewhere. And whoever had taken her hadn't wanted anyone to know she was still alive.

It was the only thing that made sense, didn't it?

"I want to see this corpse."

John's stern voice broke through House's reverie. He looked up at the elder TP; he was staring at House, looking positively forbidding.

Yes, the man was determined to piss House off.

"Well, sure." House took another drink. "After all, why should you believe me when I tell you what I saw?"

John actually rolled his eyes at that. "It's not that I don't believe you, Dr. House. I truly accept what you say. But, the only way I can think of to get to the bottom of this mystery is to get tissue and blood samples from the body."

Yes, that had occurred to him, but House wasn't about to give the other man the satisfaction. "So you're just going to walk in and say to the coroner: 'I don't think that's Allison Cameron lying there on that slab…let me take whatever I need to prove it.' No, I don't think you'll have any problem with that."

That didn't get the response House had hoped for. Instead of making the other man pissed, John simply smiled coldly. "I don't intend to _ask_ anyone for permission."

"Then I'm in."

The TP's eyes narrowed. "I'm perfectly capable of handling this on my own."

"Oh?" House stood up, staring the other man straight in the eye. "And have you ever taken tissue and blood from a corpse before?"

John opened his mouth, but whatever reply he'd meant to give was cut off by the sudden ringing from the phone.

The sound actually made House jump a little. It had been the last thing he'd expected to hear.

"Aren't you going to get that?" John asked, one eyebrow raised.

"That's what I have a machine for," House countered.

John smirked when he heard the recording.

"House, are you there?" It was Wilson's voice coming from the speaker. He paused for a second, then said, "Look, I know you're there, but probably too drunk to answer. I'm sorry about Cameron. I liked her, too. Come on, pick up…" His concerned voice faded out. "If you need anything, all you have to do is call. It doesn't matter how late it is. I'll always be available. Just…please call me." There was another silence, then the unmistakable click of the line disconnecting.

House was touched by Wilson's message. He'd always counted the man as a good friend, and this was just another example of it. The problem was, he wasn't sure he deserved James Wilson…

John was watching him, and the scrutiny made House feel uncomfortable. Even though he knew none of the Tomorrow People would go prying into his own private thoughts, it was disconcerting to see the other man's knowing gaze meet House's own. "How long will it take for you to get what we need?"

"Not long." He was grateful for John's capitulation. To be honest, House was suddenly not feeling up to being nasty to anyone. Maybe it was Wilson's message, or just the surrealness of the situation, but the normally snarky doctor just didn't have it in him to fight back in that moment. "They should have everything I need right there in the morgue."

"Good." John nodded once. He turned his eyes upward slightly, "Tim, can you send a matter transporter belt please?" He spoke aloud, for House's benefit.

While House couldn't hear the biotronic computer answer, he could see the response: a belt suddenly appeared in John's outstretched hands. It didn't look like much: a loop of black canvas-like material, with a strange checkerboard pattern on the buckle. All the Tomorrow People wore them; according to Allison, the jaunting belt was an aid to the TP's natural teleportation talent, helping with navigation and giving them an extra boost of power.

The one John was holding, though, was slightly different; a disc-like object hung from the belt, glinting silver in the low light. That device was a matter transporter, and would allow Tim to send House along with John, wherever the other man went.

He slipped the belt on, and was surprised at how natural it felt. He'd worn one before, but Allison had always been very adamant about taking it back once House hadn't needed it any longer. As if he could've used it without help…

"Tim, can you check the coast is clear?" John cocked his head, listening to the computer's mental voice.

House clutched his cane tightly. It wasn't that he was nervous; he actually loved the feeling of teleportation, of disappearing and reappearing in a different place. He'd envied Allison the ability to teleport on her own.

He shook himself. No, he wasn't about to think of her in the past tense. He wanted – no, needed – to find out what had happened to her. And John had convinced him that she wasn't dead, after all.

There was still that small place in the back of his brain that kept gibbering, _She's dead…_ _she's dead…Allison Cameron is dead…_

No, he was going to ignore it. Down that way lay despair…

His apartment faded out around him, to be replaced by the cold sterility of the county morgue. House shivered involuntarily, and he wasn't certain if it was because of the frigid air…or the presence of so much death. Probably a combination of both.

Silently they separated. John moved toward the rows of heavy metal doors of the corpse storage drawers; House located the supply cabinet. He quickly found what he needed, then rejoined the Tomorrow Person in searching the small white cards for one particular name.

"Dr. House."

John was standing beside one of the closed drawers, his hand resting on the handle. His dark eyes found House's, and there was an uncertainty in them, and House realized that, despite all his talk about Allison not being dead, he really wasn't as sure as he'd let on.

Suddenly, House didn't want to see that body again. It would be like a confirmation, the two of them standing over that corpse…the corpse of Allison Cameron.

With a wrench – one that House would have described as violent, had he not known of the Tomorrow People's non-violent nature – John yanked the cabinet door open. A gust of cold air hit House in the face, dragging his attention to the contents of that freezing drawer. The sheet that covered the body within floated up a little in the dead breeze.

The small squeal of metal wheels heralded the drawer being rolled out. John's hand hovered over the edge of the sheet…then he pulled the material back, carefully, almost gently, revealing the corpse that lay just underneath.

To his credit, the elder Tomorrow Person didn't make a sound. He just stared down at the body, his jaw clenched. Although House didn't pretend to know John that well, he realized he was seeing something that few others could brag of: John was angry, so angry that House pitied anyone who got in his way. Even though Allison had made a big deal about the Tomorrow People not being able to kill, in that moment House seriously doubted that was truly the case. The man standing next to him was perfectly capable of taking a life, despite any and all genetic barriers to the contrary.

"Do what you have to," he growled, moving aside so House could work.

It took no time at all for him to get the samples they'd need. House wouldn't look at the face on that body. He had to keep it anonymous, keep the knowledge of just who he was doing this to far down so his hands wouldn't shake, and he'd be able to work. "Done." He disposed of the syringe and the scalpel he'd used, making sure no one would know they'd been there. The vial with its precious blood and the sealed dish with the tissue sample weighed heavily in his pocket.

"Get us the hell out of here, Tim," John says out loud.

And the morgue disappeared. House fervently hoped he'd never see it again, even as familiar surroundings faded in around him.

He was in the Lab.

"Hello, Dr. House. I would welcome you back, but under the circumstances…"

House stumped down from the jaunting pad, glancing up at the housing where Tim, the TP's artificial intelligence, was hanging. Lights flashed across the four hemispheres that curved from the computer's surface. Normally, House would have joked about the "balls," but tonight he just didn't feel up to it.

"Tim," he greeted in response.

"If you'll please put the samples on my scanning table," the computer requested, "I shall have the analysis done as quickly as possible."

House didn't say anything, but did as Tim asked. He put the blood and tissue on the closer of the two tables. It immediately begun to glow, as the biotronic computer started the scans.

"Can I get you anything while you wait?" Tim asked, his normally calm voice almost emotionless.

"No, thanks." House sank down in one of the chairs around the second table, which he knew from experience was called the link table. It was where the Tomorrow People could gather, to combine their powers with Tim's own technology and make their own abilities that much stronger. The memory came…the last time he'd sat at this table, he'd been sharing chocolate milkshakes with Allison…no, he still couldn't go there.

John was pacing again. Did the man ever relax? "Once we have the analysis, we can decide on what our next step will be."

And what if Tim said this was, indeed, Allison's blood and skin and DNA? What would they do then? House had faced her loss once…could he do it again?

"I have a preliminary report," Tim spoke into the sudden silence.

"What have you got?" John demanded.

"It appears that the DNA analysis confirms that the tissue is, indeed, Allison's," the computer said, his voice going even more dead than before.

John slumped against the scan table, his face a sudden mask of pain. "That…that's impossible, Tim," he gasped. "I didn't _feel_ anything…"

House's heart did something that hurt incredibly bad. He actually clutched his chest, to try to stop it. She really was gone…

"There is more," the computer added.

House didn't want to hear, but John prompted Tim to continue.

"There are some anomalies in the samples that I cannot explain."

"What sort of anomalies, Tim?" There was a strange tone in the Tomorrow Person's voice.

Was that hope?

"There is unexplainable chromosomal drifting all along the DNA base pairs," Tim answered.

House sat up, his mind trying to digest _that_. "To what extent?" he asked. "Would it be detectable by conventional techniques?"

"No, Dr. House. It is only at a rate of 0.00000001 per cent of normal. Sap technology is not that sensitive."

"What would cause that?" John wanted to know.

"Unknown at this time. I am in contact with the computers on the Galactic Trig, and I will report when I have further information." The computer paused. "Also, I am certain that the person this tissue sample had come from was already dead when the accident occurred."

"You mean to say a _corpse_ drove Cameron's car in front of that snowplow?"

"Yes, Dr. House. That is precisely what I am saying."

"We need to discover where the police have taken that car," John declared. "It might give us some more clues to Allison's disappearance."

"Then you still think she's alive?" House scoffed.

John looked him straight in the eye. "I do. And so do you."

House opened his mouth to reply, but settled for a simple nod. He _did_ believe Allison was alive, although what made him think that could have been more in the realm of denial than anything concrete that they'd discovered.

Okay, so he was feeling hope as well…

"I have further information," Tim broke in. "According to the Galactic Trig, the only thing that could cause this type of genetic drift is cloning."

"So, you guys have cloning too?" House snorted in disgust. This was really getting far too surreal…

"It isn't widespread," John answered absently, "but yes, the Federation is familiar with cloning. Tim, is there any way of telling just who was responsible for this clone?"

"Unfortunately not, John. However, this conclusion does fit all the facts."

"But wouldn't I have sensed the clone dying as well? If she was a direct copy of Allison, she would have had all of Allison's powers as well."

"Not if the clone were truly never alive. If it were created just to make people believe that Allison were dead, then it would not matter if the clone were fully animated."

"There are other questions we have to answer," House put in, standing and flexing his bad leg.

"And what are they, Dr. House?" Tim inquired.

"Why Cameron? What exactly did she do to draw whoever's attention to her? And just how long has whoever it was known about her?" He looked at John squarely. "And how many of your people do they know about?"

 

* * *

 

"Tim have you had any luck finding where they've taken Allison's car?" John inquired, glancing up at the computer.

House sat at the link table, nursing a cup of coffee. He absently swallowed a Vicodin, then took a swig of the dark liquid. It burnt his tongue, but he ignored it, intent on the answer that Tim was giving.

"Yes, John. It has been towed to the impound lot, at the local Princeton crime lab. According to their reports, they have gone over the vehicle, and have already made their recommendation: that this was, indeed, an accident."

Anyone else might have thought that the elder Tomorrow Person was calm, but House's educated eyes could pick out the unmistakable signs of stress in the other man: in the way he stood, his arms folded across his chest; in the lines that had appeared around his eyes in just the short time they'd been together; in the unnatural stillness he'd adopted. His dark eyes still held their intenseness, but they were shadowed.

He stepped to the table, taking a sip of his own coffee. His hand shook slightly as he raised the cup. "How about security?" he asked, setting the coffee back down.

"The usual security cameras and alarms on the gates."

"Then it shouldn't be a problem getting in?"

"Not at all. It will be no trouble distracting the cameras while you and Dr. House jaunt in."

"Good. I'll need some equipment, then we can go."

"Just a second," House stopped him.

John glanced at him, his irritation evident. "What is it now?"

"When's the last time you slept?"

That surprised the other man. John blinked twice before he answered. "What does that have to do with anything?"

House snorted, "I'm a doctor. I _do_ notice when someone's working on very little sleep."

John opened his mouth to reply, then sighed. "I was just heading to bed when Tim contacted me about your phone call. After all, there _is_ a five-hour time difference between London and Princeton."

"So it's been…almost twenty-four hours?" he asked, glancing at his watch and adding five hours.

"Look, I appreciate your concern, but right now finding Allison is more important. I'll sleep once we check out her car." He went into another room, leaving House alone with Tim.

"In actuality," the computer replied, "it has been over forty-eight hours. John had just arrived home from the Galactic Trig when you called, and they are in yet another time zone from Earth."

"I thought so. Someone doesn't start showing signs of exhaustion after only a day." House should have been crowing about being right, but he didn't feel up to it. Having John on his side in this investigation was important, and if the Tomorrow Person was too tired to make good decisions…"Is that where the others are?"

"Yes. Elena has been asked to do some diplomatic work on behalf of an old friend, while Paul and Robert are taking the opportunity to do some studying in the Trig's archive."

"Robert?"

"Yes, he is a new addition to our ranks. I am surprised Allison hasn't mentioned him."

House didn't mention that he and Cameron didn't often talk about Tomorrow People matters.

"If you are concerned about John, do not be. He would not let himself be distracted from this investigation. I suspect he wants to find Allison even more than you do."

The doctor seriously doubted that, but didn't contradict him.

He heard the door open, but didn't look in John's direction. "Are you going to call in anyone else?"

"No." The Tomorrow Person was adamant. "If someone _is_ after us, then I don't want to put anyone else in danger."

That made sense. It felt odd, though; House was used to working with a veritable entourage. And, as much as he gave his people shit, he depended on them. House put up this loner façade…all right, it wasn't so much a façade as a lifestyle choice, but when it came down to it, he felt invigorated when he and his team worked together.

He suspected that John felt the same way.

So this was going to be a strain on both of them.

John set a satchel down on the table. It resembled nothing more than an old-fashioned doctor's bag. He rooted around inside, pulling out several pieces of complicated-looking electronic gear.

"So," House drawled, "what do you expect to find out from her car?"

The Tomorrow Person began fiddling with a box that looked like a pocket calculator with a miniature screen fitted on. "I hope to get enough readings to discover how Allison was taken from the vehicle and how the clone took her place."

"And you can do that with…" House made vague motions toward the device John held.

"It should do. That is, if they used some sort of matter transmission to do the actual switch, which makes the most sense. I'm also looking for any other energy signatures that might give us a clue as to whoever did this. If we can get that, it'll be easier to track the transmission beam back to its source."

This was way over House's head. If it were some sort of medical puzzle, he'd be as happy as a pig in shit, confident that he – and his team – would come up with the answer. Even though he pretty much understood a lot of what John was saying, all this technical crap was giving him a headache. Give him a mysterious illness any day…

John finished messing with his equipment, then repacked it all back into the satchel. "Tim, can you give me a report on the impound area?"

"Yes, John." There was a pause. "Currently, there is a security guard on duty. He will be out of visual range of Allison's vehicle in fifteen seconds."

"Thank you, Tim." He turned to House. "Shall we go?"

House stood, and made a bowing motion toward the jaunting pad. "After you."

One side of John's mouth went up in a sarcastic smile. He grabbed his case off the table and led the way to the pad. House took a final gulp of his coffee and followed. "When it's clear, Tim."

"Acknowledged."

The lab faded out, to be replaced by a freezing wind that cut through House's jacket like a scalpel blade. He involuntarily shivered, regretting instantly leaving his heavier riding jacket back at his place.

John looked equally chilled, but didn't let it visibly affect him as he made a beeline toward the wreck that had once been Allison Cameron's car. It sat there forlornly, dusted with a thin layer of new snow. The entire driver's side of the vehicle was crushed, and House knew that, even if that strange clone had been alive at the time of the crash, it most likely wouldn't have survived its injuries.

His shoes crunching in the half-frozen slush, House made his way toward the car. John had sat the bag down on the hood, and was pulling that calculator-like device from within. "I'm keeping in constant contact with Tim," he murmured, pressing one of the machine's buttons. It beeped at him softly. "If you suddenly find yourself back in the Lab, it's because we're about to have company."

"Got it."

The Tomorrow Person moved around to the passenger side of the car. There was an audible creak as he pulled the door open. His head disappeared below the roof.

House moved toward the driver's side. Nearly the entire window was gone. He looked into the car, careful not to catch himself on the jagged glass that still remained. The door had been pushed in a good six inches, effectively halving the room in that side of the vehicle. It was consistent with the injuries the clone had sustained.

He watched as John ran his little device up and down the driver's side. It made a beeping noise, which seemed to tell the elder TP something even if it left House in the dark. "Some sort of matter transmission _was_ used to take Allison from the car, and to get the clone inside."

"Cameron would have had to stop the car."

"I agree. I think our next step should be to retrace her path that day, and find out just where the transfer was made." Her turned the device off, then used his telekinetic power to put it away and bring another instrument from the bag. This one resembled a laser pointer, only longer. "I doubt we'll find anything forensically in here, but have a look around. Perhaps the crime scene people missed something, since it appeared to be a straightforward traffic accident."

House was already doing just that. The cloth of the seat was dark with dried blood, as was the floor mat. The steering column was bent out of shape, the wheel canted at a weird angle. There was something on the floorboard… "Do you have a flashlight?" he asked softly.

John didn't answer. Instead, a small pocket light floated through the air toward House. He took it without a word, thumbing it on. A glint of metal sparkled against the rust-colored blood, half-hidden under the mat. "Do you see that?"

"I do." Using his mind, John brought the object up into view. It was a sliver of metal, about a quarter of an inch long. "A piece of the car's body, perhaps?" he mused.

"That would explain why it wasn't bagged and tagged with the rest of the evidence."

John brought the tube he held close to the object. The metal flared, then began to glow a sickly green. "Now, that's interesting."

"I take it that means it's not of Earthly origin?"

"Correct, Dr. House. That's exactly what it means. We'll take it back to Tim for analysis." Using telekinesis alone, the elder Tomorrow Person carefully tucked the piece into a plastic zip-top bag, then transferred it to the satchel. "Well spotted, by the way."

House didn't answer, just made a grunting noise that John could take as he pleased. Instead, he went back to examining the area around the seat with the penlight. He tried to figure out what had caused Cameron to stop the car, for the time it took for the exchange to take place. Had someone flagged her down? Or had it been some other reason?

A Tomorrow Person-centric reason, perhaps?

He was convinced – as John was – that this had something to do with her powers. That, somehow, she'd drawn attention to herself. But what had she done? God, the woman was so into acting normal she even drove to work when she didn't have to! She hadn't even worn her jaunting belt half the time, content to leave it in her locker at the hospital when she was at work. He'd sworn she was back into denial of her powers, just as she'd been before John had come back into her life. To House, it was a shame, to waste a set of talents like that. He'd once tried to convince her to use them during one of their cases, without Foreman and Chase present, but she'd still declined. She hadn't wanted to take the risk.

If it had been a case of her simply being a coward, he wouldn't have put up with it. But House knew it was more out of a sense of protecting the others of her race; if someone found out about her, the chances are they'd find out about her extended "family." Cameron would have died before that happened. She'd once quipped that, not only were the Tomorrow People born with the gene that made them _Homo Superior_ ; they'd also gained a paranoia gene.

She'd been absolutely right.

Suddenly, the car was gone, and House found himself staring down at the honeycomb design of the jaunting pad. He promptly lost his balance, without the car to prop him up. He tumbled onto John, who'd landed unceremoniously on his ass when the seat he'd been on disappeared from under him. "Tim, did you get the case?" he rapped, breathlessly.

"I did, John. I apologize for the lack of warning, however the security guard was returning far quicker than I had anticipated."

House rolled off the other man, hissing in pain as his bad leg complained at the treatment it has just received. "Are you all right?" John asked.

"I haven't been all right in years," House snarked back, rummaging in his pocket for his pill bottle. He dry swallowed two Vicodin.

John didn't comment. He got to his feet, then helped House to his. It irked the doctor to accept, but didn't have much choice without his cane. He glanced around for it, and found it lying on the step. John picked it up and handed it back silently.

House took it just as silently.

Together the two men left the jaunting pad, the TP retrieving the bag from where Tim had deposited it beside them. "We have some interesting readings for you, Tim," John said, "plus it appears whoever took Allison left something behind."

"Excellent," the computer replied. "While I am examining the data, both you and Dr. House can get some rest."

"Stop mothering me," John snapped, irritated. "I'm not sixteen anymore."

"Your comment bears out mine and Dr. House's observations that you are near exhaustion, John," Tim went on serenely. "You would not have said that if you were not tired."

John opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. "Of course you're right, Tim. I apologize."

"That is not necessary. If you would leave me the information and the object you found, I will run my analysis. I have taken the initiative and have made up two beds for the both of you. Dr. House, if you take the opening on your right, you will find your room at the end of the hallway."

House glanced in the direction indicated. He'd noticed the corridor leading off the main area of the Lab – there was one also on the left – and Cameron had once told him that did, indeed, lead to sleeping areas. He'd just never had the chance to look on his own.

He yawned. He hadn't realized that he was tired, as well. It had been a hell of a day, even before the phone call that had started this entire affair. "Thank you, Tim," he said sincerely.

"You're quite welcome, Dr. House. I have also provided a set of pajamas for you, if you're so inclined."

"You know, I wish you were one of my residents. You're hard-working, intelligent, always prepared, and I wouldn't have to worry about you stabbing me in the back."

"I shall take that as a compliment, of course. However, I sincerely doubt any of your residents would do that."

House barked a laugh. "You don't know Chase and Foreman. Believe me when I say I still feel the knives from those two." He deliberately didn't add Cameron's name to the list, although there were a few times when she hadn't been exactly loyal. But then, he expected it from all three of them, since they were all strong people who did what they thought was right. Or, in Chase's case, to preserve his own skin…and who was House to poopoo a strong sense of self-preservation? It just gave him that much more material to torture the young doctor with.

"Then why do you continue to employ them?" The computer was curious.

It amazed House that an artificial construct like Tim could have emotions, yet every time he spoke with the artificial intelligence it was proved once more. "Because they're the best," he admitted, " and I can respect their disagreements with me. But if I ever get wind that someone told them that, I'd know where to come. Understood?"

"Indeed, Dr. House," Tim agreed, amused.

"There, Tim." John finished laying out his equipment and the piece of metal they'd found onto the scanning table. "It's all yours. I assume you prepared my old room?"

"Yes I did. Goodnight, John."

"Goodnight, Tim. Dr. House." With that, the elder Tomorrow Person went down the right-hand corridor.

"Guess that's my cue." House stretched. Yes, the Vicodin appeared to be working, his leg wasn't throbbing nearly as bad.

"Goodnight. Sleep well."

"Same to you, Tim." House didn't even consider the irony of telling a computer that. He followed John, passing a closed door that he assumed must have been to John's room. His own was next door, and it contained a small dresser and a bunk-like bed. A pair of pale blue pajamas lay spread across the comforter.

House barely got the pajamas on – he usually didn't wear much of anything to bed, but since he wasn't at home he decided to err on the side of caution – and was lying on top of the covers, before he was asleep.

 

* * *

 

Dr. Robert Chase knew something was wrong.

The moment he set foot into the clinic, he could tell. It was in the way the nurse on the desk looked as he entered: her eyes had widened, then she'd ducked her head as if she didn't want to look at him. One of the orderlies clapped him on the shoulder sympathetically, not saying anything. He also got a funny look from another resident on duty, but the woman ducked into an examining room before Chase could call out to her.

What the hell was going on?

"Dr. Chase?"

He turned to look at the too-young candy striper who'd spoken. "What is it?"

She made the same head-bobbing movement that the nurse had. "Dr. Cuddy wants to see you in her office. She…asked us to tell you when you came in."

"Thanks." More like, the nurse had been asked, but she'd delegated it to this kid.

The young Australian left the clinic, not even bothering to remove his coat. Why hadn't Cuddy simply paged him or called him on his cell if she'd wanted him? It was yet another oddity to happen since he's arrived, but the day had started out pretty normally…except for the crappy weather, of course. It was this time of the year when Chase wished he'd never left his native country. Yes, it snowed in Australia, but not quite like this. At least it had cleared up long enough for the roads to be plowed.

He headed up to Cuddy's office, noticing more strangeness on the way. He passed a nurse who was actually crying, and that puzzled him even more. Now, that wouldn't be happening if this were some sort of call down on the carpet. No, he honestly didn't think anyone would be shedding tears if he'd screwed up.

The doors were open, so he just went in, since apparently Cuddy would be expecting him. And she was, sitting at her desk with her hands folded on the blotter, looking at him as if she was going to be the bearer of bad news.

Chase realized that was exactly what she was.

Foreman was there as well, standing in front of the desk, watching him as he entered. While his fellow resident didn't look too concerned, there was an air of expectancy exuding from him.

Of course, the first that crossed the young doctor's mind was that this had something to do with House. That he's caused some sort of trouble, pulled some shenanigans that were likely going to get them all into hot water.

But, if that were the case, where was Cameron? And House himself?

"Come in, Dr. Chase," Cuddy invited, motioning him forward.

Chase hadn't even been aware that he's stopped moving. He jerked forward, suddenly not wanting to hear what she had to say. He came to stand next to Foreman, trading a puzzled look with the other doctor.

"I think you should both sit down." Cuddy pointed to the two chairs in front of her desk.

Chase took the hint and sank down into the proffered seat. Foreman was a little slower to accept, but he too sat.

"There isn't any easy way to say this," the dean began, "so I'm just going to come right out with it." She took a deep breath. "Dr. Cameron was in an accident last night."

Chase's heart stopped. He opened his mouth to speak, but Foreman beat him to it, asking if she were there in the hospital.

Cuddy shook her head. "No, Dr. Foreman. She's not here. I'm afraid she was…killed." Her voice choked on the last word.

Now Chase knew his heart would never start beating again. Allison was…dead? That couldn't be true. Just yesterday he'd spoken to her, trying to convince her to trade some clinic hours with him because he wanted to spend a rotation in the neo-natal unit. She'd been so…alive, trading barbed remarks with him like they usually did.

And he didn't even want to face his true feelings for her. Feelings he'd kept hidden because he'd known how she'd felt about House. He'd been resentful about it, and now he was regretting it all. He should have accepted it; accepted her for who she was, instead of trying to pick fights with her just so he could hide his true emotions.

He'd never get the chance to tell her now. Oh, God…how he'd wasted every opportunity. She'd never know how he'd looked after her, how he'd kept her secret.

But, she'd never trusted him to confide in him. He'd had to put the clues together and draw his own conclusions.

Chase had known what she was, and had kept that knowledge so private even Cameron herself hadn't been aware that he'd known.

He listened as Cuddy explained what had happened. It made Chase mad, because Cameron hadn't even needed to use the bloody car! However he'd known how important it was that she not draw attention to what she could do. But her gifts could have done so much!

If she'd been discovered…what would have happened? Foreman had come so close, that time her friend had been injured in that explosion. That had been Chase's first clue, and after that…well, being one of House's protégé's had taught him something about observation, and in the end he'd figured it all out.

He should have told her the truth. He should have told her he knew she was a Tomorrow Person.

Now it was too late. She was dead, the victim of a stupid automobile accident.

Cuddy offered them each the day off. Foreman accepted, but Chase knew it was just because it was a free day, and not out of any sense of mourning on the other man's part. Foreman did ask what the arrangements were, to give him some credit.

"I don't know yet," Cuddy answered. "Her parents are going to be here later today, and we'll know more then."

Chase declined the day off.

"Are you sure?" she asked softly.

"I'd rather be working." There was nothing like work to push the anger and the other emotions that were bubbling to the surface back down so deep inside he could forget them for a while. It would be later, in the privacy of his own apartment, when those emotions would break him.

He'd deal then.

Chase left the office, letting his feet carry him down to the clinic where he'd first been scheduled that morning. Now all the looks made sense; it had gotten around the hospital gossip chain far quicker than news like that had a right to. They all left him alone, for which he was grateful. He just wanted to forget, at least for a little while.

And he managed, until noon.

He was treating a young woman who was in denial about being pregnant when there was a quiet knock on the treatment room door. He sighed, pulling off his sterile gloves and telling his patient that she needed an ultrasound, then he opened the door.

It was the same volunteer who'd told him to go to Cuddy's office that morning. She was looking nervous, and Chase had to stop himself from pulling a House and being a rat bastard toward her. It wasn't her fault. "What is it?"

"Sorry to disturb you, Dr. Chase," she answered somewhat breathlessly, "but there's someone here in the clinic asking to see Dr. Cameron. The nurse on duty wanted to tell Dr. Cuddy, but she's in a meeting, so I was told to come and get you."

Well, he'd almost achieved forgetfulness over the tragedy, but now it all came back to him in a rush. "All right," he murmured around the sudden lump in his throat.

He followed her to the reception desk. Standing there was a petite woman, with red hair braided over her left shoulder and a dragon-shaped charm hanging from a beaded line woven into that same hair down her right. She was wearing a long, flowing skirt, and what looked like genuine hand-made leather boots. Over the top of it all was the thickest, heaviest duffle coat Chase had ever seen. He wondered vaguely where she'd gotten it, and if he could get one just like it.

She'd been smiling, but her green eyes darkened with curiosity when Chase approached.

He recognized her at once. While he didn't know her name, he'd seen her half a dozen times…in Cameron's company. She'd eat lunch with Allison at least once a month.

This day was apparently one of their scheduled meetings.

"I'm Dr. Chase," he introduced himself.

"Allison done mentioned you b'fore," the woman replied, smiling once more. "I'm Danielle. I'm s'posed to be meetin' 'er for lunch. She busy or somet'in?" She had the oddest accent; it was like French, but something was off about it.

Chase wanted to close his eyes against the pain. She didn't know. It would be up to him to tell her. "Could you come with me please?" He ushered her toward an empty examination room.

Danielle looked puzzled when she saw they were the only ones in the room. "I don' be understandin'. Where be Allison?"

Chase shut the door. "Look, I don't know how to tell you, but…" and he didn't. Not really. He swallowed hard.

The woman was really beginning to look alarmed. "Somethin' done happen to 'er?"

"I'm afraid so." He motioned her to one of the hard stools. "Please, sit down."

"It be bad, don' it? She here? In t' hospital? Can I see 'er?"

"I'm…afraid you can't." Chase knew he had to get it out, to tell her what happened. "I'm sorry, but Allison's…dead."

That didn't feel right at all. Acknowledging something was supposed to make you feel better, didn't it? Those words just made it worse. It was like condemning Allison.

Danielle gasped, tears forming in her eyes. "No."

"It's true." Chase wanted to pull her into his arms, but something made him resist the notion. He was feeling an agony quite like what had to be going on within Danielle, and it wasn't a good sensation at all.

Her breathing hitched as she sobbed. She just kept moaning, "No," as if she could deny the very truth of it.

Chase's heart went out to her. He overrode the instinct not to touch her, and put his arms around her, holding her shuddering body against him. Her weeping was getting his lab coat wet, but he didn't care. He wanted nothing more than to cry with her, but he held himself in check. That would happen later, when he was alone.

They sat like that for a while, and Chase lost track of time. It didn't matter. Danielle needed him, and despite what he thought to the contrary, he needed her as well. He didn't know her, but he could share her grief at the loss of a dear friend. He'd wasted his time with Cameron, he saw that now. He'd been so bothered by her feelings for House, and Chase's own feelings for her, that he'd pushed her to arms' length. He hadn't even been able to share with her that he'd known her secret.

He regretted it all with a passion that was almost frightening.

Eventually, Danielle's sobs ceased. She pushed herself away from him, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her coat. "I can' b'lieve it. I can' b'lieve she be dead."

"She is. I'm so sorry you had to find out like this."

She shook her head. "Ya'll don' be understandin'! I'd'a known if she'd –" she broke off, her hands fluttering in a helpless puddle in her lap.

Chase looked at her closely. He hadn't thought about it before, but was Danielle like Allison? Did she have the same powers? He wished he could check for the telltale belt. But she was wearing that coat, and he'd never thought to check before.

Danielle stiffened, noticing his sudden scrutiny. She stood abruptly. "I be goin' now."

He made to stop her. "Will you be okay?"

She nodded, hurrying out of the room. Chase followed her as far as the clinic doors, then lost her in the crowd that was entering the hospital.

It was then he realized that it was time to make a phone call…one that he should have made a very long time ago.

 

* * *

 

John was awake instantly, as he usually was. At first, he wasn't sure how he'd gotten into his old bed in the Lab; sitting up, he looked around in confusion, certain he should be in his flat, and in his usual bed.

Then it all came back to him: House's call; the news of Allison's "death;" their investigation and what had been discovered. He rubbed his eyes, clearing them so he could check his watch.

Well, he'd managed to get about seven good hours. That didn't count the hour he'd been tossing and turning, almost too exhausted to sleep. His thoughts had been running around his head like a rat in a maze, and it had taken all the meditation techniques he'd ever picked up to finally calm down enough to drop off. Surprisingly, he hadn't dreamed, but he chalked that up to his exhaustion. Tim – and House – had been right: he'd needed the rest, and was glad the issue had been forced. Now he could take on events with a clear head.

John got up, finding clean clothing laid out for him on top of the dresser. He ducked into the tiny lavatory to get cleaned up, then dressed and headed out into the main area of the Lab.

As he approached, he heard Tim speaking. " – but the genetic drift can be eliminated by letting a clone mature naturally. Only in forced-grown cloning techniques do you see such drifting."

"Are there ways to repair any sort of genetic anomalies that might be inherited from the progenitor?" House's voice asked, curiously.

"Indeed, Greg. Those races advanced enough to develop viable cloning methods have long since mapped their genetic codes."

Greg? Since when did Tim call House by his first name?

John had, of course, been aware that the artificial intelligence had kept in contact with House, but he hadn't realized they were on such intimate terms. Were his other friends like that? He'd heard the message that Dr. Wilson had left; he'd even referred to the doctor as "House," and according to Allison those two were very close.

His curiosity was itching terribly, but John would wait until he was alone with Tim to inquire…

He stepped around the corner, greeting both Tim and House.

"I believe you mean good afternoon, John," the computer said warmly. "Would you like some coffee?"

"I would, please."

House was sitting at the link table, his own cup held in one hand. What was left of his breakfast was lying in demolished remains on his plate. John had only ever seen him looking rumpled and scruffy, but today he had achieved that look while appearing freshly groomed at the same time. He'd apparently been back to his place; he'd changed into a pair of black jeans and a Rolling Stones t-shirt. A leather jacket was hung over the back of his chair.

The doctor didn't say anything, although he did nod at the salutation. He took another sip of coffee, as John joined him with his own cup. "What would you like for breakfast, John?" Tim asked.

He gave the A.I. his breakfast order, then asked, "Did you find out anything from the readings we brought back last night?"

"Indeed I did. Dr. House and I have been waiting for you so that I might relay them."

His breakfast appeared on the scan table; John fetched it then returned to his seat. So, it was "Dr. House" in company, and "Greg" in private? This was certainly interesting…

John glanced across at his companion as he took the first bite of his egg. House seemed relaxed today, which was a good sign. Last night, he'd appeared frazzled and out of sorts, and while the Tomorrow Person didn't pretend to know him all that well – they'd only ever spoken during that time he'd been injured, and House had been his doctor, or the occasional argument over Allison's well-being – he hadn't acted at all normal.

And who could blame him? House had gone from believing Allison dead, to being told that she was alive and had been replaced by a clone. It was beyond anything the doctor had ever really been exposed to. He'd been out of his depth.

While he didn't pretend to like House, John did respect him. He was a first-class doctor, quite possibly the equal to any the Trig could boast. It was a shame he'd never broken out and become a Tomorrow Person; he would have been an invaluable addition to the team. And it seemed he'd won Tim over…

"All right, Tim," he prompted. "What have you got?"

"According to the metallurgical analysis of the piece of metal," the supercomputer began, "it did, indeed, come from the body of the car."

"How is that possible?" John cut in, hastily swallowing the egg he'd had in his mouth. "The portable unit detected obvious alien components within it."

"Indeed there are, however that is because it was exposed to an unknown energy which caused part of the molecular structure to transmutate into another material entirely."

'I didn't know you people were into alchemy," House drawled; under the obvious sarcasm there was just a hint of awe.

'Not as a rule, no," John put in, accepting the comment in the spirit with which it was apparently meant. "You said it was an "unknown energy," Tim?"

"I did. Nothing that I am aware of can change the basic constituent of metal as this has."

"Well, do you know what kind of metal it was changed to?" House asked.

"That I can tell you. According to the Galactic Federation database, it is an extremely rare material called castalanium."

"And where does castalanium come from?" John inquired, taking another forkful of egg.

"Only one planet that the Federation is aware of: it was called Castalia, one of the Fornax series of worlds."

"I don't think I've ever heard of it." Which surprised John a bit; he prided himself on knowing a majority of the inhabited worlds within Federation space.

"Castalia was a world near the Federation's furthermost border. It was a peaceful place, and their people were psionics of the first caliber. However, instead of following the usual form of development, the Castalii became departmentalized, each being specializing in one form of psi ability. For example: one might become a telepath, while another a telekinetic. No one could be both."

"That _is_ bizarre," John mused. "Wait…you keep describing Castalia in the past tense. What happened?"

"Unfortunately, Castalia and all her people were destroyed by violent solar flares twenty-two standard years ago. As far as the Federation is aware, there were no survivors. They were not a space-faring race, and while they could have called for aid, they did not."

"Any reason why not?" John was intrigued, and a little saddened.

"None that the Federation has recorded. The Castalii were an insular race. While not officially members of the Federation, they were aware of other planets and had been visited many times."

"So they weren't a closed world then?"

"No, according to records they had declined closed status once first contact had been made."

"That is strange…"

"How so?" House asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Well," John explained, "there are two ways of determining closed status within the Federation. The first is when the world involved is primitive and not ready to know about alien races – "

"Like Earth," the doctor interrupted.

"Yes, although since Earth has been developing a telepathic lifeform, it has extended Federation membership to every Tomorrow Person who breaks out, and those with the potential to break out. That means every child born here since the first break-out – which was mine, by the way – is a provisional citizen of the Galactic Federation, until they either become one of us, or not."

"And I would assume the second way is to choose to cut yourself off from the rest of the galaxy."

"Yes, that's right. There are races out there who don't have any desire to become a part of the Federation, and choose themselves to remain a closed world."

"So, Castalia was contacted by the Federation, didn't become a member, and yet declined to remain closed."

"That is correct, Dr. House," Tim replied. "It would mean that visitors could come, but there would be restrictions on trading and of the Castalii traveling beyond their homeworld. And apparently the Castalii themselves did not want to leave."

"And now they're all gone." House sighed. "What a waste."

John had to agree. The loss of anyone was bad enough, but the destruction of an entire race, when it could have been prevented… "The question remains: what was used to change what was an ordinary Earth alloy into this castalanium?"

"I cannot discover any process that would have made such a transformation, John. I am sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Tim. Just keep looking. What else can you tell us? What about the transportation beam that took Allison and left the clone in her place?"

"I have attempted to extrapolate the type of technology used to generate the transporter beam…and I cannot. It does not appear to have been created using any mechanical means at all."

"What the hell does that mean?" John demanded, his breakfast now forgotten with the advent of this mystery.

"I believe the transporter was organic in origin."

"Can I take "Animal, Vegetable, or Mineral" for 500, Alex?" House drawled.

It was just this sort of comment that irritated John to no end. While House was undoubtedly a brilliant doctor, his manner was…well…immature was the polite word for it. Allison had often tried to explain that this was just his way of dealing with things beyond his control, and while John could sympathize with that, he just couldn't understand why House had to be so…irreverent. Yes, that was a good word to describe it without getting into name-calling.

"It would be "Animal," Dr. House," Tim answered, a chuckle in his calm voice.

That reaction to House's comment made John glance up at the supercomputer's housing in surprise. So, Tim had been talking to the doctor long enough to be amused by his behavior?

"I would surmise – and you know how much I dislike stating conclusions without enough facts – is that Allison was taken by a being, and not by a form of equipment. I would almost say she was jaunted away, although not by choice. This teleportation signature is not at all like the one used by a Tomorrow Person."

"So, someone teleported in, grabbed Cameron, and teleported back out," House managed to distill it all down into one easy sentence.

"I believe that _is_ what I said," Tim answered dryly.

"Well, even without the energy signature," John replied, "we know it couldn't be a Tomorrow Person. We can't jaunt with that much mass."

"So we're looking for an alien of some sort, who can teleport in, kidnap a Tomorrow Person without them being able to use their special powers, replace them with a clone that would fool just about anyone without an advanced artificial intelligence to say differently, then change the body of a normal car into a rare metal that can only be found on another planet, and one that's dead to boot." House sighed. "I wish I had my whiteboard…"

"I can get you one, if you wish," Tim said helpfully.

"Thanks, but I can manage."

"I think our next step is to trace Allison's movements the day she vanished," John intervened. He knew that having a whiteboard was House's preferred way of diagnosing a problem, and while he personally thought it was a fairly good idea it wasn't something that he was into. "We need to find out where she was taken, and hopefully that might lead us to why."

"Then you'd better get a warm coat," House answered.

 

* * *

 

John shivered as he stood on the street corner, the detector he held pointed toward the intersection.

According to Tim, this had been where the "accident" had taken place, and the Tomorrow Person was hoping to be able to get enough readings to give them all some clue as to who had taken Allison. The longer it took, the more worried he got. Whoever had taken her had to have some sort of plan, and he was frightened that, whatever that plan was, it would at some point involve Allison's death. He wanted – no, needed – to find her before they decided it was that time. He couldn't stand to lose someone else. There had been far too many lost already.

Dirty snow piles partially blocked the crosswalks, making it hard for anyone to get across the street. The intersection itself held two petrol stations, on corners diagonal to each other; a quick-change oil establishment; and a bookstore that made up the end of a block-long row of shops. There was nothing out of the ordinary here at all.

The weather had cleared, but it was bitterly cold. He held the instrument in both gloved hands, the better to keep the delicate mechanism from freezing. John was very glad he'd followed House's advice about the coat, but then he also remembered how cold it had been at the impound lot last night.

There wasn't a lot of traffic, most people apparently staying in. John thought that was quite sensible. While the sky didn't look threatening, House had reported that it was predicted to start snowing again sometime later in the day. Who would want to be stuck out somewhere, in the middle of a snowstorm? The Saps had to rely on vehicles to get them around, and were at a distinct disadvantage in bad weather.

That thought brought him back to Allison. After all, she'd been determined to live as "normally" as possible. At first, John had been concerned that she might go back into denial about who and what she was, but that hadn't proved to be the case. She'd acted like a Sap out of the desire to keep herself hidden, and therefore to keep the existence of the other Tomorrow People secret as well. He could see the sense of it, having been on the receiving end of many a Sap ire.

But that desire had put her in a position that had led to her apparent death. And now he – and House, as much as he didn't want to admit it – would have to put things right. It would be up to them to find her.

The detector was barely reacting. John's brows furrowed, confused. _"Tim, are you sure this is where the accident happened?"_

" _Yes, John,"_ the biotronic computer answered promptly. _"According to the police report, this is indeed the intersection."_

" _I'm not getting anything at all here."_

"What's wrong?" House asked.

John turned to look at the doctor. He stood not too far away, close to the base of the streetlight. He leaned on his case, and anyone else looking at him would have said he held a casual pose. But John could read his body language, in a way: House was tense, the hand holding his cane was white from tension, and he was fidgeting with the fingers of his free hand. "I'm not getting any sort of reading here at all," he answered, letting his frustration show.

"Then maybe this wasn't where she was taken," the doctor pointed out, his voice sharp.

John cursed himself. Of course, that would make sense, but it irritated him that House had been the one to realize it. "Then let's backtrack a bit, and see what we come up with."

"There's something else."

He regarded House closely. The man looked as if he'd just discovered a universal truth. "What is it?"

"It's this intersection." House indicated the cross street. "If Cameron were on her way home, she would have turned here. Yet, her car showed she was hit side-on. That shouldn't have been possible if she were turning right."

John considered it. "You're correct. Allison would have been slowling down to turn, and I doubt she would have been going so fast that she would have slid into the middle of the intersection. And even if Allison had lost control of the car while turning, the snowplow would have struck nearer the rear of the vehicle."

"So whoever did this didn't know where she lived."

"That does make sense."

"Then whatever drew attention to her didn't happen at home." House turned back down the street.

"Again, that makes sense."

His mouth quirked upward. "I'm so glad you think so," he replied, sarcasm layering his words.

John let it slide. He knew – through second-hand experience, really – that this was his way. What was more important at the moment was trying to find Allison.

" _John."_

" _Yes, Tim?"_ He spoke aloud as well, so House would know he was conversing with the artificial intelligence.

" _Allison's mother just called."_

John's heart sank. He'd known he'd have to deal with Allison's parents eventually. _"What did she say?"_ This time he spoke silently.

" _She was calling to let us know about Allison's death."_

" _What did you tell her?"_

" _That we already were aware of it, and to call again once they reach Princeton. You would come to see them then."_

" _Thank you, Tim. Let me know when she calls again."_

" _I shall."_

"What was that all about?" House wanted to know.

John told him. While it might have been a pleasure to deflate House, in these circumstances it bothered him a little to see him start, then look slightly guilty. "Cuddy must have called them," he murmured, looking away.

"Look, this might seem hard-hearted, but we can't tell them Allison is still alive."

House's eyes narrowed as he considered. "You're right, of course."

The Tomorrow Person was a little taken aback by the doctor's swift capitulation. He'd been prepared to defend his decision, and now it looked like he wouldn't have to. If they were to have any chance of catching Allison's abductors, then everyone had to react as if she were truly dead. Hopefully that would give them enough time to investigate. "Let's see if we can find out just where she was taken."

House hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "She'd be coming from that direction."

John followed the doctor as he limped away. The detector's LED indicator stubbornly refused to change. His frustration level was growing by the second. Logic dictated that, somewhere along her route from the hospital, Allison had to have stopped. If she'd been snatched from the car while it had been moving, there would most likely have caused the accident immediately. There had to have been time for Allison to be taken, and the clone put in her place.

They'd walked about fifty yards before the detector blipped.

"Wait," he called, bringing his companion to a halt. He moved the instrument in a deliberate circle, watching carefully.

House joined him, staring past his shoulder at the device. "You got something?"

Barely was the question asked before the detector blipped again.

"Never mind," the doctor muttered.

John ignored him. He looked up in the direction indicated.

He was in front of what Americans called a strip mall. Across a large parking lot was a block of eight stores, anchored on one end by a gym and on the other by a grocery. The lot itself was partially filled with vehicles of all sorts, spread out along the entire length of the mall.

John took a few steps forward, and the detector began to make more noise. The LED indicator also reacted, the numbers tripping upward from zero the further into the parking lot he walked. He kept his eyes on the device, and when the signal began to fade again, he stopped.

"It was definitely around here," he turned around, heading out toward the street once more. He'd taken two steps before the detector was back up to its highest reading.

"Should I shout Bingo?" House asked.

"Only if you want to direct attention towards us," John returned. He crouched onto the asphalt, as if somehow he could connect to Allison from the place where she'd been taken. He removed a glove, running cold fingers across the surface…but could sense nothing. Not that he thought he would, of course. Psychometry wasn't one of his talents.

"I wonder what made her park here," House mused.

"Let's see if we can discover that." The Tomorrow Person stood. "Do you want the gym, or the grocery store?"

"The grocery. We'll meet in the middle."

"Agreed. Call Tim on your mobile if you find out anything. I'll have him jaunt you around the corner." Suiting action to words, John contacted the artificial intelligence, at the same time asking for two photos of Allison. When they came, he handed one to his companion.

House vanished. John watched as the doctor came around the corner of the store, limping purposefully inside.

John jaunted himself to the opposite end of the strip mall, out of sight around his own bit of corner. He entered the gym, practically slapped in the face by the free-floating testosterone that came wafting across the foyer.

He spoke to the receptionist, a young woman who looked more like a male than a female. She hadn't seen anything, nor had she ever seen Allison, and John got permission to question some of the trainers and members as long as he didn't make too much of a nuisance of himself.

John had spoken with two others when Tim called him. _"What is it?"_

" _Dr. House has discovered something interesting. He asks that you join him."_

He doubted that House had been that polite about it. _"Let me leave here, then I'll jaunt down to the grocery. That_ is _where he is?"_

" _Yes, John."_

" _Tell him I'm on my way."_ John broke the connection, heading out of the gym with almost a sense of relief. He simply didn't understand Saps sometimes…why was it so important to build up your body until it no longer looked natural? It just didn't make sense, and it was hardly attractive. But then, everyone had a different definition of the word "attractive."

Within seconds, he was walking into the grocery store. He spotted House immediately: the doctor was standing at one of the checkout lanes, speaking with a middle-aged woman with her mousy brown hair pulled back in a loose bun.

John joined them. The woman seemed a little nervous, but he couldn't tell if it was House asking questions, or House being House, that was causing it. Her name badge read "Mary."

"This is John," House introduced. "Tell him what you told me."

"About the young lady?" Mary wrung her hands. "Well, as I was saying to this gentleman, I recognized the picture because of the near-accident."

"What 'near-accident' do you mean?" John tried to be soothing, but his impatience almost overrode it.

"Well, it was Monday night, during the first snow. The store was deserted, just me and the manager was here. About 6 o'clock, this young lady comes in, buys a few things, then leaves. Now, I didn't see what actually happened, but Walter – he was the manager on duty – told me that this lady was almost hit by a car that went out of control. The way he said it, it was a real miracle that she wasn't killed. The car stopped just inches from her! The driver was real shaken, he swore it wasn't him that made the car just stop like that. She sure had some sort of guardian angel looking out for her, that's for sure."

John nodded, all the while his mind was working overtime. Allison's strongest talent had always been telekinesis, and from what this woman was saying, he could infer that she'd used it to stop the vehicle from sliding into her. It would have taken a huge amount of power to do that, and just such a thing could have brought attention onto Allison that she hadn't wanted.

"Did you see the young woman's car again after that night?" House inquired.

"No, sir…although…" Mary looked pensive.

"Although what?"

John wished that House was telepathic, so he could tell the man to back down on the intensity a bit. They wouldn't be able to get anything else out of Mary if she were intimidated.

"Well, I can't be sure, you understand…but I thought I saw it again yesterday. The problem is, it was out at the far end of the parking lot, and the snow was absolutely dreadful…I just don't know."

"You've been very helpful, Mary," John replied, projecting calm and reassurance. "Is this manager here today?"

The cashier visibly relaxed. "No, this is his day off."

"That's fine. We'll just come back and talk with him later." He glanced at House; the doctor nodded.

"Excuse me," Mary asked, "but is she in any trouble?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Well, it's just that you're here, asking questions, and all I can think of that there's something wrong."

John smiled. "I can assure you, she's not in any trouble." Or any that you might understand, was the unbidden thought.

"That's good. She seemed like a real nice person. She even smiled at me, and wished me a goodnight. Not a lot of people do that, you know? Most of the ones we get through here are just plain nasty, if you understand."

"I do. Thank you for your help." He smiled.

"Glad I could."

Both John and House left the grocery. "I assume you're thinking what I am," the doctor said once they hit the parking lot once more.

"I am. But what puzzles me is: why did they wait to take Allison? If they sensed her that night, why didn't they just grab her then?"

"Would it have taken them that long to grow the clone?"

"Could be." John pulled the detector from his pocket. He began to beep once more, only this time it was very faint. "Did you notice any wounds on Allison? Scratches and the like?"

"Can't say that I did. But then, if there were a mark under her clothes, I wouldn't have seen it. And I'm pretty sure you've seen more of her than I have."

John took immediate insult to House's tone. "That was uncalled for! I won't have you insinuating – "

House held up his hands to ward off the attack. "I'm only saying that you're more closer to her than I am. You'd most likely know before I would."

"You're right, of course." John tried to reign in his temper. It wouldn't do any good to go off on him. _"Tim, can you send me a psionic field detector?"_

" _Certainly, John. Is there something wrong?"_

" _No, nothing."_ Not that Tim would believe him, of course.

The requested device appeared in his hand. He thumbed it on, and it immediately begun to squeal.

"What's that mean?" the doctor wanted to know.

"It means," the Tomorrow Person answered, his anger now firmly under control, "that a powerful psionic used their power in the general area."

"Cameron."

"Indeed." He started walking, both instruments held out. "It appears that it happened here – " he indicated the parking space near the cart corral " – and very recently. But the other detector isn't registering much of the other power that had taken her away. I'd say that means she was discovered here, and perhaps then they had to find her again."

"Which they did, three days later."

"Exactly. And, somehow they got Allison to pull into this lot once again, and here the switch was made."

"But we're no closer to knowing who took her and why." House was frustrated.

John was, as well. He opened his mouth to reply, but a telepathic shout stopped him.

" _John! Tim! Where in de hell be Allison?"_

* * *

 

John actually cringed under the mental shout. "Damn!" he snarled aloud, his hand shooting up to his temple.

"Are you all right?" House asked. He looked concerned, but the Tomorrow Person doubted that he was worried about him; probably more concerned about needing John's help to find Allison.

"Just fine," he answered grinding his teeth.

"What is it?"

"A…complication." This just got worse. _"Can you please keep it down to a dull roar, Danielle?"_

" _Da question's still out dere, John."_ Her accent made his name sound vaguely French.

" _Why do you think anything's happened to Allison?"_

" _B'cause I was s'pposed to be meetin' her for lunch today, and got told dat she be dead, dat's why."_

"Damn," he said aloud again.

"Going to clue me in here?" House asked, sounding annoyed.

"I'll be glad to, if you'll give me a moment."

The doctor subsided, managing to look both pissed off and casual at the same time.

" _It would be easier if we came to you. Are you home?"_

" _Course I be home! Where else would I be? And what y'all mean by 'we,'_ cher _?"_

" _I won't be coming alone. We'll be there in a minute."_

" _You better. And da expl'nation better be a good one!"_ With that, Danielle was gone…in a huff, but she was gone.

"Damn," John said for a third time. "That, Dr. House, was Danielle."

House's eyes narrowed. "Cameron's friend? The redhead? The one she meets for lunch once a month…" his voice faded as he realized what must have happened.

"Exactly. And now she's demanding an explanation."

"Which we have to give her."

John was angry. "So much for not getting anyone else involved."

"Best intentions, blah blah blah…"

"Right." He sighed. "Let's get this over with."

"I'm surprised you're inviting me along."

"You're the one who wants to be 'in,' as it were." What John didn't say was he was hoping that, if two targets showed up, Danielle's temper might be halved between them. _"Tim, you heard that as well?"_

" _I did."_ The computer sounded amused. _"I have the coordinates, and am jaunting you both to Danielle's."_

The cold of New Jersey vanished, replaced by a comfortable living room filled with sunlight. The windows were open, and the faint scent of the sea tickled John's nose. He shrugged off his heavy coat and gloves even as he was announcing their presence mentally.

The furniture had been rearranged since the last time he'd been there – Terry's doing, John knew. He'd always been doing the same thing in the Lab back when they'd all lived there, so the elder Tomorrow Person was quite familiar with the signs. The place was comfortable and lived in, as well as pristine – once again, Terry's doing, although Danielle had never been a slouch when it came to her fair share of the chores. An entertainment magazine cozied up next to the latest issue of Astronomy on the cherry wood coffee table. Fresh flowers in a decorative vase sat on an end table – and were most likely from the garden that John knew was around the back of the home. The sofa and overstuffed chair were upholstered with a pleasant floral pattern.

All in all, Danielle and Terry had made a very comfortable life for themselves. It was a life that John might have been envious of, if he wasn't so glad that they were happy together.

"John!"

Danielle entered the room as if she were a person-sized whirlwind. She went straight up to John, pinning him with green eyes that had darkened in anger. He was very much aware of her temper; he'd once joked that he'd rather deal with Paul – who had quite a hair-trigger himself – than with Danielle. She was much more scary, even if she barely topped five foot tall.

It was the delicate seeming ones you had to watch out for….

He held up his hands to forestall her next demand. "If you'll just calm down, I can explain everything."

She examined him closely, her mind touching his in what he realized was an attempt to determine if he was going to tell the actual truth. Then she glanced in House's direction, gave him the once over, and returned her attention to her main target. "Dere better be a good one, _cher_ ," she replied, gathering her temper back under leash. "I got da shock of my life at dat damn hospital today."

"I _am_ sorry, Danielle," he answered. "If I'd known you were going to meet Allison today, I should have warned you."

"Well, 'parently somethin' big be goin' on, since you done brought _Docteur_ House wit' ya." She crossed her arms over her chest, still staring John down, but the fire in her eyes was dimming a bit.

So he told Danielle everything, leaving nothing out. It wouldn't have done any good anyway; her intuition was way too good to fool for long. As he spoke, the anger drained from her, and by the end of the story Danielle was chewing her lip in thought.

"But I don' be understandin'," she said, finally motioning them to sit. "I done a readin' da night b'fore, and got nothin' at all."

"Reading?" House interrupted.

"Danielle is a limited range diviner," John explained before the younger TP could answer. He wasn't sure he wanted House to know exactly how she did it; it would just be more grist for the doctor's sarcasm mill.

"You mean you can tell the future?" House smirked. "Can you tell me what the winning lotto numbers are for tomorrow's drawing?"

"Don' be sassin' me _, Docteur_ ," Danielle warned. "You an' I ain't got time to go 'round on this. 'Sides, I don' go tellin' you how to slice 'n dice your patients, _non_?"

House had cocked his head while the woman had been speaking, and when she was done he replied, " _Cadien_ , right?"

John was impressed. While people did eventually figure out what Danielle's background was, it wasn't that many who knew the correct term, and invariably they would call her by the Anglicized form _Cajun_.

That brought a slight smile to Danielle's face. " _Oui_ , _Docteur_. I see our Allison didn' exagg'rate your abilities."

"She probably didn't mention my devastating charm and razor-sharp wit."

"'Fraid not." With that barb, Danielle turned back to John. "As I was sayin', I didn' get nothin' at all. Dat worries me more 'n a bit, _cher_."

"You know your powers can't be turned on and off like a switch," he tried to soothe her fears.

"But I be more 'n accurate when it comes to my fellow TP, John. 'Specially one I be really close to. Like Allison."

He sighed. He didn't really know what to tell her. "Let's not worry about that now. We need to concentrate on finding Allison and bringing her back."

"You be right, o' course."

"Does Terry know about it yet?"

Danielle snorted. "Hell, _cher_ , he knew almost da same moment I did. You know how tight our rapport be better dan anyone."

Indeed he did.

"Rapport?" House asked.

John stifled a sigh. He didn't really want to have to explain. "Danielle and Terry are unusually close mentally, even by TP standards."

"Dat's right," the woman added. "Terry an' I, we be born on da same day, at da exact same time. Guess you could say, we be twins, but we came from diff'rent folks. 'Course, I was born in Louisiana, but Terry be from Ohio. We broke out at da same time, too. No one ever seen a pair like us." She turned back to John. "He'd be here now, but he be out o' town on business. Can't get away just yet."

"I was really hoping not to involve anyone else," the senior Tomorrow Person said. "If this is someone after the TP, then the less who know what's going on the better."

"Or it could be worse," Danielle answered. "What happen if 'nother one o' us did somethin' to draw attention to demselves, and were taken?"

She had a point. Still… "I think it best if it just remains between us for the time being."

"I have to agree with John," came a voice from the doorway.

John looked up. Terry stood there, leaning on the jamb with his arms crossed. To his eyes, his fellow TP looked tired, his gray eyes shadowed behind his glasses. "How much did you hear?" he asked.

"Everything," the other man answered. "Danielle broadcast all the details to me. And it just doesn't make any sense to put any more of us in danger at this point. Until we figure out who took Allison and why, that is."

John wasn't so sure it was a good idea for Terry to be involved at all, but wasn't about to say it to his face. Terry was a proud man, and any mention that he might not be up to whatever had to be done would have been an insult. The man knew how strong he was, and John had to trust him to back off if things became too stressful.

He could read the same doubt in Danielle…and if he could, then so could Terry. He appeared to be relaxed in the doorway, but John could tell differently. The elder TP wondered if there would be a "discussion" about it after he and House departed. If something did occur, then it was highly dubious that even the Trig could put Terry back together again…

"Look," John said, in order to break the sudden tension that had sprung up between the two, "we don't know enough to even guess who's responsible. Until then, we all have to pretend as if Allison were well and truly dead. That means Dr. House and I have to appear at whatever service the Cameron's are going to prepare."

"I be goin' as well," Danielle spoke up.

"I don't think that's a good idea –"

"I have ta, John. If whoever took Allison been trackin' her for a while, den I been seen wit' 'er. It would look weird if'n I didn' go. And even if dey didn' be aware o' me b'fore, dey will be after today. I was at da hospital, r'member?"

"Who told you about Cameron?" House wanted to know.

"A _Docteur_ Chase. An' dat's somethin' else…somethin' not right 'bout that boy."

"What do you mean? Chase is just a sycophantic ass-kisser who only cares about his own skin."

"I t'ink you don' give him enough credit, _Docteur_. He be knowin' somethin'. Got a readin' off him dat bothered me no end."

John's heart did a little jump. Could someone in Allison's own circle have been involved in what had happened to her? "What did you feel?"

"Just dat I think he be knowin' 'bout what we are."

John turned to House. "Could Allison have told him?" he demanded.

The doctor snorted. "No way in hell. She wouldn't trust him any more than I do."

"Then how would this Dr. Chase know?" Terry asked, coming to sit beside Danielle.

"Beats me." Danielle shrugged. "Jus' be tellin' you what I felt, dat's all."

"Then we have yet another mystery on our hands." John was frustrated. Couldn't things ever be _un_ complicated?

"If Chase _is_ involved," House swore, "his life won't be worth living."

"Let's not make any threats toward him," John retorted. "If he _is_ somehow involved – and we don't know anything beyond what Danielle sensed about him – then he could be our way to find Allison."

"We be gettin' ahead of ourselves here," Danielle interjected. "I jus' felt he somehow knew 'bout us. His grief be genuine. Dat I am certain of. I don' b'lieve he could've done anythin' to hurt 'er."

"We should still watch him and see what he does," Terry suggested. "Even if he didn't have anything to do with Allison's disappearance, he _does_ know about the Tomorrow People. And that could be dangerous to us in another way entirely."

"Terry's right." John got up and began to pace. "We don't have enough information. Guessing about it isn't going to do any of us any good. All we can do is keep tracking down leads, and hope one of them leads us to the people who took Allison."

"There is something else we can do," House offered.

John didn't like the expression on the man's face, not one bit. It was a combination of cunning and self-satisfaction, and it put his teeth on instant edge. "What do you suggest then?"

"Well, we can offer up some bait…"

 

* * *

 

The memorial service was the longest Chase had ever had to endure in his entire life.

It was held in the hospital chapel. There wouldn't be a funeral locally; Allison's parents had decided to take their daughter's body back home for burial. Instead, through Cuddy, they'd arranged a memorial for her friends and co-workers, those who wouldn't be able to make it to the actual funeral.

Chase couldn't believe it had only been a day since he'd gotten the horrible news.

It all seemed a little rushed to him – no, not a little. A lot. But he could understand why Allison's family would want to get her home as soon as possible. It was just that he hadn't had time to adjust to her being…gone. And now they were having this service for her.

It was Saturday. He would have normally worked today anyway, so being in the hospital wasn't so much a big deal. It was the _reason_ he was there that disturbed him. He would have preferred the hypochondriacs in the clinic to this.

He would have preferred the innermost circle of Hell than to be in the chapel that morning.

Cameron's family was already there when he arrived. They stood in the front of the chapel, speaking with Cuddy. Chase thought he should go up and pay his respects, but decided he couldn't face it. Couldn't face _them_ , knowing what he did about their daughter and sister. Even though they had to have known themselves what she was, he wasn't supposed to. That secret made him feel guilty.

He deliberately chose a seat near the back, just in case he needed a quick escape. Chase knew his own strength, and had a feeling today it would be tested to its limits.

The chapel began to fill. Many of the hospital workers had respected Cameron, and as many of them as possible would be at the memorial. Chase wondered vaguely what would happen if an emergency happened to erupt during the service. He almost hoped there would be one.

House came in about five minutes before the memorial was due to start. As soon as he saw his boss, Chase realized he hadn't seen the man since before Allison's accident. He wondered where he'd been; playing hooky somewhere more than likely.

The older doctor looked even more intense than usual. His cane hit the floor with a horrible thumping noise, like a heartbeat. He was actually wearing a dark suit, which included a tie, and he'd shaved and apparently gotten a hair cut. At least he was paying Allison the respect she deserved, he thought darkly.

As he watched, House went up to the Cameron family and paid his respects. That, in itself, shocked Chase. It had been the last thing he'd expected, knowing House the way he did. He almost fell out of his chair as Allison's mother reached out and hugged him…and House didn't appear to mind one bit.

Once he was done, House turned to take a seat in the second pew, right behind the family, ignoring Wilson's rather violent motioning from several rows back. He glanced around the chapel; his eyes met Chase's, and there was something in them that made the younger doctor shiver involuntarily.

Then John arrived.

Chase remembered him vividly from his time as a patient there. He looked considerably different; his injuries had completely healed, and he must have had some plastic surgery done to repair the facial wound he'd had. There was an aura of power about him, as if he were some sort of visiting dignitary. He wore all black, and it just made him look all the more distinguished. As he moved, Chase caught a glimpse of the belt around his waist.

It was like the one Allison had worn every once in a while. He didn't understand what their purpose was, but he could guess what they symbolized.

John immediately went to Cameron's family. Up until that moment, Allison's mother had managed to keep her calm; but when he approached, she broke into sobs and hugged him tightly. The Tomorrow Person returned the embrace, whispering something to the woman that seemed to have a quieting effect on her. She pulled away, nodding. Then he shook hands with both Cameron men. He was invited to join them in the front pew, and he accepted.

Chase had always wondered how Allison's family had accepted her powers, and this was proof that they'd been very supportive. It made him happy for her, yet sad at the same time.

The past person to arrive was Danielle. She came into the chapel, making a beeline for the Camerons. She also received a hug from Mrs. Cameron, plus one from Allison's father. She traded a handclasp from Cameron's brother, and nodded to John in greeting. The Tomorrow Person nodded back, and something passed between them that Chase would have missed if he hadn't been looking straight at them. She, too, was wearing the checkerboard-patterned belt.

Danielle then – to Chase's surprise – came and sat next to him.

"'Ello, _Docteur_ Chase," she greeted quietly. "I hope ya don' mind me sittin' wit' ya'll. Don' really know anyone here…'cept da family, o' course."

He didn't believe that for a second, but affirmed that it was indeed fine for her to join him.

Danielle took the assent a step further, by slipping her arm through his. "I don' like these t'ings one bit," she went on. "'Specially when it's a friend o' mine it's bein' held for."

Chase wondered what it was she wanted him to say. He knew she'd never read his mind without permission, and that made him feel a bit better. But her behavior was off just a bit: gone was the woman who'd wept so hard into his shoulder. She'd been replaced by someone who, while she still seemed sad, was also far too calm and collected for a person who'd just lost a dear friend.

The memorial began, with Cuddy making the first remarks. Chase sat back, Danielle leaning lightly against him, and let the words flow over without them actually registering. Nothing was quite adding up, and it was frustrating.

He was seriously wishing he'd made that call last night. After he'd decided to do it, he'd come up with a dozen good reasons not to. Most of them had to do with respecting Allison's privacy, but did that really matter anymore? It wouldn't be like he was blabbing to a complete stranger. What possible difference would it make now?

The memorial seemed unending to him. All he could think of was Allison Cameron, and how she'd died. It had been a useless death, or at least that's how he felt about it. Yes, he'd kept her secret, and had understood the need for her to remain anonymous. But certainly there'd been things she could have done, on the sly, that wouldn't have drawn attention to herself.

Chase glanced toward the front pew, where Allison's family sat. There'd been a time when he'd half-dreamed of someday being included in that family…but that was before he'd realized what a pipedream that had been. That had been when he'd discovered that she'd had feelings for another man.

House.

He'd hated the man, almost to distraction. But he'd come to the conclusion that it didn't do any good. House would be House, and he'd continue on as he always did, and to hell with other people's feelings. And House would always completely disregard Allison's feelings toward him, and hurt her in the process.

It hadn't helped when Chase had realized that House had known her secret. She'd trusted him with who she was. It was incomprehensible to him that she'd ever do such a thing. House wasn't to be trusted, he'd only turn around and betray you in the end.

Chase had hoped one day she'd come to her senses. But she'd died before that had happened.

He kept finding himself drawn back into the proceedings despite his attention being focused firmly inward. He'd been very interested in what House would say; the older doctor had kept it short, but he hadn't skimped on the praise. Chase had actually snorted at that.

"What?" Danielle had asked softly, having heard the small noise.

He'd reassured her that everything was fine. She'd accepted it, settling herself against him once more.

Cuddy had asked him to speak as well, but Chase had felt completely unable to do so. She'd claimed to understand, but hadn't been able to hide her disappointment. What could Chase have said? That she was a good doctor and a pleasure to work with? They hadn't really shared much of a life outside of work, despite him having tried to ask her out a couple of times. He'd only really known her in the context of the hospital.

The one thing he _had_ known, he couldn't share.

Well, there was one person he _could_ tell…shit, why hadn't he made that call?

He was practically the first to leave the chapel. He murmured something inconsequential to his pew-mate, then pushed past her and into the corridor. He just had to get out; the walls had begun to close in on him in the final moments of the service.

This meant he was a witness to what happened afterward.

House had been practically behind him, followed by Wilson. They appeared to be having a rather heated discussion, but Chase couldn't make out what was being said. House shrugged Wilson's hand off his shoulder, then stomped off. The oncologist shook his head, looking upset, but he left in the opposite direction.

House didn't go far. He went about thirty feet down the corridor, leaning against the wall and trying to act casual about it. He ignored people as they moved past; which was fine, because everyone ignored him as well.

He remained like that, until a man walked up to him.

He was in his early thirties, handsome, already balding, and wearing glasses. From where Chase was standing, he could just make out an earring glittering in the overhead lighting. The man was dressed casually, in jeans and a pale green sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. A coat was draped over one arm.

The man spoke to House. The doctor responded with a simple shake of the head. Then they waited together.

Danielle was the next to join the pair. The man put his arm around her shoulders; she rested her own arm about his waist. They looked entirely comfortable with one another, and Chase wondered if they were married. They certainly acted as if they'd been together for a long time.

John appeared to complete the group. To Chase's continued surprise, they stood closely together, speaking quietly. The unknown man seemed to be doing most of the talking; Danielle didn't say much, but she leaned closer to her companion, almost protectively. House looked disgusted, and John simply nodded.

Chase would have given anything to know what was going on over there. Just when did House and John get on speaking terms? How did Danielle fit in? And who was this other man? Was he a Tomorrow Person as well? There was no sign of the telltale belt, but it could have been hidden under the bulky sweater.

He suddenly knew something was going on…something beyond the death of Allison Cameron.

The group broke up, but not before the unknown man reached under the coat draped over his arm, and pulled out one of the belts. This was one slightly different, with a silvery disc attached to it.

He handed the belt to House.

Seeing that belt and House together shook Chase. House couldn't be one of the Tomorrow People as well, could he?

No, that was impossible. Chase knew them, knew their ways. House simply didn't fit into the mold of _Homo Superior_. Yes, he was intelligent, and highly intuitive, but he was also unscrupulous and uncaring. He was everything the Tomorrow People weren't.

It would have put his mind more at ease if he'd known what the belts actually did. Were they simply a symbol, or more than that?

He vowed, then and there, that he would make that phone call as soon as he could.

 

* * *

 

Luckily for him, Cuddy had actually insisted that he take the day off.

Chase sat on the sofa in his apartment, nursing a beer he'd thought he'd wanted. It had grown warm in the hour since he'd gotten home.

The phone beckoned him. He should have called ages ago, even before he'd figured out Allison's secret. But when his father had died…well, that had made calling that much more difficult.

The young doctor glanced at his watch, adding the sixteen-hour time difference between Princeton and Sydney. It would make local time there at 7:32 am. Yes, he would be up by then. He'd always been an early riser.

"Damn." Chase slammed the beer bottle down onto the end table, grabbing the receiver from its cradle. It took him a minute to find the number once more; he'd dug around for it the night before, finally discovering it among some old photos. When he'd decided not to call, he'd tucked the crumpled piece of paper under the telephone. Out of sight, out of mind…

The phone on the other end was answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

The voice was still the same, even after so many years. Chase opened his mouth to reply, but found himself tongue-tied.

"Hello?" Now the man sounded puzzled. "Is someone there?"

"Adam?" Chase finally managed to get out.

There was silence on the other end this time, broken up by a little static from the international connection. "Robbie? Is that you?" the voice was incredulous.

"It's me." Once he'd started speaking, it was easier to get the words to come.

"God! It's been forever! How've you been?" Adam asked excitedly. "Are you still at that hospital in New Jersey? I can't believe it's really you!"

Chase found himself grinning under the verbal assault. "Yeah, I'm still in Princeton. And I've been…pretty good." The smile vanished as he came to the reason for the call. "Look, Adam, I know it's been a long time, and I really want to catch up, but this isn't strictly a social call. I…need to talk to you."

"Sure. What's up, cuz? Although I can't say I'm disappointed that something's happened to make you finally break your silence."

"I need to talk to personally. Can you come?"

"Of course I can. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I'll be waiting."

"I won't be long. And, Robbie?"

"Yeah?"

"It really _is_ good to hear from you. I mean that."

"I know. I feel the same way." He did. It felt wonderful just to hear his cousin's voice once more. They'd been as close as brothers while they were growing up. "I'll see you soon." He cut the connection.

Chase picked up the beer again, taking a swig before realizing it was warm. He made a "yuck" noise, and went into the kitchen to put the coffee on. He needed some. He had the feeling it was going to be a long night.

"Robbie?"

He jumped a bit, even though he'd been expecting that voice. "In here!" he called, pouring water into the coffee maker.

Adam hadn't changed much at all. He'd cut his brown hair even shorter than the last time Chase had seen it, but other than that it was the same old Adam Newman he'd known since he was a kid.

"Hey, cuz!" Adam grabbed him into a bear hug, holding him so tightly Chase could swear his ribs creaked.

"I can't breathe…"

"Sorry." His cousin didn't sound apologetic in the least, but he did let go. He looked into Chase's face closely. "You look like hell, Robbie. What's wrong?"

"Let's go into the living room, okay? Then I'll explain."

Adam followed him, taking a seat on the couch next to Chase. "As I said on the phone, I'm glad you finally called me. I…missed you at Uncle Rowan's funeral."

Chase ground his teeth, recognizing the overture for what it was yet pissed that it was offered. "Look, I don't really want to talk about that. It's…not important." Had he just dismissed his father that casually?

His cousin frowned, but didn't push it, for which Chase was grateful. "You know I'll help in any way I can. It has to be something Earth-shattering for my stubborn cousin to call me."

Chase told him everything. He started at the beginning, when he'd first begun to suspect that Allison Cameron was more than she appeared to be, and how he'd put it all together. He explained to Adam how he'd kept it a secret, even from Allison herself. He even included his feelings for her and of his hiding them.

When he got to her dying, though…that's when he finally broke down, letting out all the pain and rage he'd felt at her passing. A small voice somewhere inside wasn't so sure he was just mourning Allison, but he shut it up ruthlessly.

Adam let him, comforting him as best he could. And when Chase was able to speak once more, he finished with meeting Danielle, and the strange meeting he'd seen after the memorial.

Then he sat back, looking his cousin in the eye. Adam seemed distracted. "What do you think?"

"I think…Robbie, I don't mean to make light of what you've been through, but if what you say is right, and your Allison _was_ a Tomorrow Person, then it doesn't seem possible that she _could_ be dead."

"What the hell are you on about?" Chase demanded hotly.

"Take it easy, cuz." Adam held his hands out placatingly. "It's just that, even though I've never met her, and I don't really associate with her branch of the "family" tree, I would have sensed her passing. That is, if she were _really_ one of my people…"

 

* * *

 

Allison Cameron awoke with the worst headache she'd ever remembered having. It felt like someone had ground glass through her brain.

She moaned involuntarily, clutching her head in both hands. She didn't dare open her eyes, out of fear of making the pain even worse. Cameron knew she was lying in a bed, but it wasn't a very comfortable one, which led her scattered wits to believe she was in the hospital.

Which was amazing, considering the last thing she remembered was dying.

Cameron lay there, for how long she didn't know, waiting for the agony to fade. It did, eventually, and she was able to tell that it was centered on the back of her head. She ran her fingers through her hair, thinking that maybe massaging the area would ease it a little.

What she found there made her eyes open in shock.

Her probing fingers touched a bandage at the base of her skull. She didn't recall being injured in any way, but who knew what had happened after the attack on her mind?

Cameron gently removed the bandage, hoping to get some sort of clue as to what it covered. The adhesive caught a bit in her hair, but she managed to pull it loose.

It wasn't an injury.

She sat up, her heart hammering and her head feeling as if it was going to explode. But it was the strange, metallic _thing_ on the back of her neck that held her complete attention.

Something had been implanted inside her.

Cameron wanted to scream, but choked it back. She looked around, even as her fingers explored the object. It felt almost like a plug of some kind; her pinky slipped into a small hole that was within the round shape. She resisted the urge to yank it out, her doctor self coming to the fore and stopping the insane impulse. She had no idea what it was, or how far in the thing had been implanted. She could be killing herself if she tried to remove it.

She gathered her panicked thoughts together. Cameron had to get out of there, and freaking out over this wasn't going to help her at all. Once she was free, she could get medical help to remove the object.

The room she was in wasn't in a hospital, not by a long shot. It was obviously in either a space ship or station, judging from the metallic walls and the small port that looked out onto blackness and far away stars. The only furnishings were the bed and a tiny chest, also made of metal.

The door itself resembled something out of a submarine, with a round locking mechanism and a raised jamb. If Cameron was looking at it correctly, then the door appeared to be unlocked.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed – more like a cot than an actual bed. She noticed she wasn't wearing the same clothes as when she was taken: this was a white body suit, covering her from ankles to neck, over which was a red poncho-like garment. Her feet were bare.

The pain in her head was easing, and Cameron decided to risk trying to call for help.

" _John? Tim? Can you hear me? Danielle? Terry? Are you there?"_ She called out to every Tomorrow Person she knew, then waited, listening for any response.

There was none.

Cameron didn't know if it was the range, or if she was being blocked. Most likely it was the latter; whoever had kidnapped her must have known about her powers. She was pretty sure that was the reason she'd been grabbed in the first place.

The metal deck cold under her feet, Cameron staggered over to the door. She experimentally tugged on the locking wheel, and the heavy metal hatch actually pulled open fairly easily.

There was a corridor beyond the door. She glanced in each direction, but there was on one there at all. The place looked deserted, in fact.

Cameron stepped out, one hand against the wall to help with her balance. There was a faint vibration through the soles of her feet, which indicated there was some sort of engine elsewhere in this place. It still didn't give her any clue as to where she was, but she hoped she'd be able to figure that out once she'd explored a bit.

She did think it odd, that if she were a prisoner why she was apparently being given free rein to look around. Maybe her captors didn't think she'd be able to get away? Cameron tried to jaunt a short way down the hallway, but nothing happened, which just reinforced the idea that her powers were being dampened in some way.

Which way to go? Cameron supposed it really didn't matter. She turned right, moving slowly down toward…well, she didn't know what. She was terrified, but couldn't let the fear stop her from trying to discover what had happened to her.

The same kind of door that had been on her cell lined the corridor as she made her way along it. It was quiet, only the sound of an air recycler accompanying her on her explorations. Cameron had to wonder why she wasn't actually dead. She'd been so sure; she could vividly remember the feeling, as her mind had been attacked.

They had to be looking for her, John and the others. While she had no notion as to how long she'd been gone, certainly someone would have noticed she was missing. At least there would be questions when she didn't show up for work. And Danielle was supposed to come for lunch, so she'd know something was wrong.

Cameron had to believe they were searching for her even now.

The corridor met up with another one, a shorter one that led to other hallways that ran parallel to the one she was in. Cameron decided to keep to her own, and continued on.

She'd gone past that connecting hall a few feet when she felt she was being watched.

Cameron turned. Staring at her was an alien, of a race she wasn't familiar with.

She – and it was obviously a female – was only about four feet tall, with a frail-looking build. She also wore a white body suit, and it almost faded into her white skin. Her hair was also white, but had yellow streaks in it that matched her eyes and the poncho. She was looking at Cameron, her narrow head cocked to one side in curiosity.

Cameron smiled. "Hello. I'm Allison."

The female looked puzzled, then spoke in a language Cameron didn't recognize. And, with her powers not working, she couldn't even try to interpret the alien's brain patterns…if that worked at all. Sometimes it didn't.

The female must have realized that she wasn't being understood, because she held out one small, three-fingered hand. Cameron stepped forward, taking the proffered hand. The woman glanced at it, apparently taking note of the differences between it and her own, then led Cameron away.

She pulled the human woman down one of the side hallways, and then down another corridor. This was exactly the same as the one Cameron had just left, with hatches along the walls. The difference was that these were open, and more of the aliens were milling about. They all stared at Cameron as she passed, and the curiosity was mutual.

The female stopped near a group of three males: two of them had black streaks in their hair, and black eyes with the matching poncho; and the third had brown. Cameron's guide spoke to the brown male, and he nodded once, motioning the taller human to kneel in front of him.

Cameron wasn't so sure this was a good idea, but didn't really have much choice. She had no idea what she was dealing with, and didn't know how these aliens would react if she refused the silent request.

So she knelt in front of the male. His delicate fingers gently caressed her face, tracing the lines of her eyes, nose, and mouth as if trying to memorize her features. She stopped herself from doing the same, contenting herself to put up with the attention.

Then the male touched her forehead lightly.

And what felt like an electric shock traveled through Cameron's brain.

She cried out, jerking away from the touch. She went back onto the deck, pain causing tears to run from her eyes.

A gentle hand touched her once more, and Cameron didn't have the strength to jerk away. The pain faded away, replaced by a warmth that spread from her frontal lobe all the way back to her shoulder blades.

She blinked the tears away. Another female was leaning over her, this one green. "The pain is gone now." She spoke, her voice slightly accented.

"I can understand you!" Cameron was surprised, to say the least. Without her powers – or a translator – she shouldn't have been able to.

"That is my doing." The brown male came into focus above her. "Languages are my gift, and I have made you able to speak ours."

Cameron let the aliens help her up. "I'm Allison," she introduced herself.

"My name is Shardan," the brown alien answered. "And these are my people, the Castalii…or what is left of them."

"What do you mean by that?"

Shardan sighed. "We are a dead race. Those of us here on this ship are the last. We were taken from our world a very long time ago."

"I'm sorry."

"There is no need to sorrow, Allison. It will be a relief for us to finally pass, although I feel much pity for races such as yours when we are gone."

Cameron was confused. She'd never heard of the Castalii, but then she wasn't at all familiar with a large chunk of the races in the galaxy. "What do you mean, Shardan?"

"When we are no more, then the Magestrin will have no one to power this spacecraft. They will need to replace us. That is why you are here."

Fear lodged deep in her chest. "I don't understand."

Shardan said nothing, he just turned his back to her. He lifted his long hair away from his neck.

There was a strange device implanted at the base of his skull. It resembled nothing so much like a socket, a place where something might be plugged in.

Cameron's hand snapped up to her own neck. Her fingers touched the metallic object there, telling her it must be just like Shardan's own.

"Yes, Allison," the Castalii replied to her silent question. "You are here to replace one of my own people. You were chosen for your telekinetic ability, after the Seer discovered you on your home world."

"I have friends," she managed to stammer. "They'll come for me."

"I am sorry, Allison, but your friends will believe you are dead."

No… "How can that be? There won't be a body or anything!"

"Yes, there is a body." Shardan looked sad. "It is a clone of you. Your planet's science will not be able to distinguish it from your own."

A clone? Cameron shook her head, denying what the man was telling her. "How can a clone be grown quickly enough?"

"I must apologize once more. That would be my people's doing, however we had no real choice. We are prisoners here, as are you."

Cameron looked around at the Castalii surrounding her. Every one of them held the same sad look as Shardan. They were a variety of colors, each one distinctive from the others.

And they all had a tired, haggard look about them, as if they'd been worked to exhaustion.

Would she look like that after being here for a while? Would whatever they were doing affect her as badly?

"Can't you try to escape?" she asked, trying to hold on to the last of her hope.

"In the beginning, yes. We tried," Shardan answered. "However, it proved to be impossible. The implants also prevent us from most independent action."

"Do they…are we actually plugged into the ship?" The idea was abhorrent to her, even though she suspected that this was the right track.

"I am afraid so, Allison. Each of us has a purpose on this ship. As do you, now."

"But why me? Why choose me?"

"You are from a primitive, non-Federation world. No one will miss you overly much."

Cameron doubted that. Would John – or any other Tomorrow Person – realize that she wasn't dead? She was well aware of how it felt when a TP died. And this clone…would it have felt the same? Would there be questions? Wouldn't Danielle have sensed something?

She knew John. He'd investigate, even if he believed she was truly dead. She couldn't give up hope.

Someone would come for her. She _felt_ it.

A loud gonging sound echoed through the corridor. Cameron started, looking at Shardan in confusion.

"That is the signal for our work shift to begin. You must come with us now, Allison. Please." Shardan held out his hand to her.

She reluctantly took it. She had no wish to find out just what her duties on this ship would be. Cameron was terrified, if possible more than she ever had been in her life. She had a piece of alien technology imbedded in her brain; she was on a spaceship with no clue as to where that ship was; and it was entirely possible that her friends and family thought she was dead.

Cameron was alone.

Her and her escort headed down the corridor, heading toward what she didn't know. All Cameron did know was that this situation was bad, probably one of the worst she'd ever been in.

The corridor ended in a large foyer-like room. Perhaps two-dozen Castalii were there, waiting for them to arrive.

"This is the where we must part, Allison," Shardan said. "I must go to my own station. Yours will be beyond, in the engine room. Marqa will show you." He indicated a woman, also wearing a red poncho and having red streaks in her long hair. Crimson eyes looked at Cameron in pity.

"Please come with me." The woman took Cameron's hand from Shardan, and gently pulled her toward a set of huge double doors on the other side of the room.

"What's going to happen?" Cameron was a little ashamed at the fear in her voice, but there wasn't anything she could do to hide it.

"You shall see." The Castalii female led her through the doors.

Beyond them was a large space, filled with various pieces of equipment. A large barrel-shaped device took up the entire far end of the room, and Cameron guessed that that must have been the ship's engine.

There were five cubicles lined up against one wall. Red Castalii were staggering from them, being helped by a couple of greens. They looked far gone, and Cameron's practiced eye recognized how close to exhaustion they were.

She had the feeling she'd be in the same condition after her "shift."

Marqa led her to one of the cubicles. Cameron could see it was somewhat padded, with a headrest that would hold her immobile. A prong stuck upward from the back of the rest.

Cameron wasn't normally claustrophobic, but that cubicle looked far too small for her to fit. Sweat broke out on her face. "I can't get in there."

"Yes, Allison. You can." Marqa was trying to calm her.

It wasn't working. Cameron was ready to panic. The last thing she wanted to do was to set foot in that cubicle. Her imagination went wild and she could see herself never leaving it once she was inside.

She tried to pull away from the Castalii. Marqa held onto her hand, stroking it softly. "Please, Allison. You must calm yourself."

It was her worst nightmare: her power being exploited by an unscrupulous individual for personal gain. Cameron tried her hardest to break whatever was dampening her powers; all she wanted to do was jaunt away from there. She _needed_ to get away.

"Allison!" Marqa's voice broke through her panic. "Listen to me!"

Cameron looked at the alien woman. Marqa's expression was worried, and terrified.

"Allison, if you do not get inside, all of us will suffer! Please, I know you are afraid, but you must get into the cubicle!"

The Tomorrow Person gathered her courage in both hands. She couldn't let others be punished for her sake. She nodded, acknowledging the female's words.

"I will be here when the shift is over," Marqa added. "You will be all right."

The device loomed like a demon over her. Cameron swallowed, hard, and took her first step into hell.

Marqa helped get her situated. "Stay still. There will be a moment of pain, and confusion, but everything will be well. You will be connected directly to the ship. Once there, you will know what you need to do."

The headrest held her perfectly still. She could feel the plug touch the socket at the back of her head.

Then the plug snapped into place.

And Allison Cameron screamed. Whether it was physical, mental, or both, she couldn't have said.

 

* * *

 

"God, that was dreadful." John groaned.

They'd all congregated back at the Lab after the memorial. The three Tomorrow People were quiet, almost subdued. House wanted to say something, but didn't know what it would be.

John sank down into a chair, his head in his hands. It must have been particularly hard on him, having to sit with Cameron's family and not being able to tell them that she was still alive. This was a crack in the elder Tomorrow Person's armor of practicality, and it was something House hadn't expected to see. After all, it had been John who'd suggested they hide the truth from everyone. He should have known it would be difficult.

Danielle went up to him, putting her arm around his shoulders. "I know, _cher_. It be hard on all o' us."

Terry joined them at the table, his own hand on John's arm. He didn't say anything.

House could actually sense the support and reassurance that passed between the three TP. It made him wish he could join in, to be a part of what they were sharing. The memorial had also been hard on him; it was as if they were acknowledging that Allison was, indeed, gone, even though the four of them knew the truth. Such things were supposed to be a source of closure, and the last thing House wanted was to feel that way. He needed that edge, the edge that the sure and certain truth that Allison Cameron was still alive brought to him.

Then a hand grabbed his sleeve, and Danielle was drawing him into the group embrace. Her arm went around House's waist, holding him tightly against her. While House would normally not agree to such an invasion of his personal space, he appreciated the gesture for what it was. There were sometimes when a person needed comfort, and this was definitely one of them. He just hoped it didn't get back to anyone.

He was being included in their "family."

House wasn't sure how to take it, although at that moment it was good to belong.

John was the first one to break contact. He raised his head and gently shrugged himself out of Danielle's grasp. House felt – rather than heard – her sigh, then she stepped away, releasing her own grip on his waist. He was surprised to feel disappointed.

They each took seats at the link table. "Can I get you anything?" Tim asked quietly.

"Coffee, please, for me, Tim," John answered. House also asked for coffee, while Danielle went for iced tea and Terry lemonade. Once the drinks were produced, someone – House thought it might have been Terry – brought them over using telekinesis. House took a sip of the bitter liquid, playing with the idea of chasing it with a Vicodin. But, for once, he chose not to take one. He wanted to keep a clear head.

"I'm gonna start," Danielle began. "Look, I didn' really sense anything from _Docteur_ Chase except grief and anger. He be really upset 'bout Allison. I'm convinced dat he knows nothin' 'bout what happened to her."

"But he knows about us?" Terry asked.

" _Oui_ , dat he does. Just can't get in what context. Might be if I had my cards…"

"We'll worry about that later," John cut in. "Right now we should focus on Allison."

House looked at the elder TP closely. If he'd learned anything, it had been that the existence of _Homo Superior_ had to remain secret until their numbers were large enough to protect themselves against unscrupulous individuals and/or governments. For John to disregard the fact that someone actually not only knew what they were, but that they'd apparently gotten the knowledge from someone other than their small group…well, it seemed out of character.

Truth be told, House couldn't wait for the day when the Great Break-Out – as Cameron had called it – finally happened. Yes, he'd had some serious doubts about the nature of the Tomorrow People at first, but having thought about it logically he'd come to the conclusion that this was what was best for the human race as a whole. And although House had the reputation – well deserved, and hard worked-for – as being a cynical rat-bastard who only believed in his own abilities, it was hard not to hope that it would come in his lifetime.

Was John not acting on what Chase seemed to know asking for trouble down the road? House would normally have called him on it, but decided to file it away for future reference once he got a look at the expression on Danielle's face. Oh, yes, she wasn't happy about John's attitude either. It appeared that the doctor had an ally in the _Cadien_ woman.

He'd have to choose the best time to exploit that alliance.

"As I said," Terry broke the sudden silence that had descended on the Lab, "I didn't see or "hear" anything suspicious during the memorial."

"I still don't think we can discount the idea that, whoever took Allison, would have somehow been watching the hospital," John said seriously. "They would want to know that we'd accepted that Allison was, indeed, dead."

"Would they care?" House demanded. "They gave us a ready-grown corpse to play with. And human science isn't advanced enough to pick up the fact that it was a clone."

"I have to agree wit' _Le Docteur_ on dis, John." Danielle replied. "As far as anyone be concerned, we all t'ink Allison be dead. Why hang 'round and risk drawin' attention to demselves?"

"I think we were all _hoping_ someone would show themselves," Terry added quietly, "so we could take some sort of action."

John looked at each and every one of them. When he got to House, those brown eyes bored into him with an intensity that was startling. While he knew none of the Tomorrow People would ever read his mind without permission, House felt that tremendous power brushing his brain as if seeking an answer to a question that didn't have one. He withstood that gaze, imagining a wall blocking that request for entrance.

It worked. The elder TP sighed, leaning back in his chair. He suddenly looked older than his years, and very tired. "I apologize," he murmured. "You're all right, of course. We seem to have struck a dead-end in our search."

Hearing him admit defeat was worse than having him ask to pry into House's personal thoughts. The doctor literally felt his heart sink into his shoes. This was bad: worse than anything he'd ever been through. Knowing that Allison was out there, somewhere…and quite possibly in serious danger, while they sat there on their asses without a clue what to do next…

Wait a second…

"What about the planet where this strange metal had come from?"

John looked at him once more. "You mean Castalia?" He blinked once, and House could see the wheels turning. "I agree it's a mystery that a piece of Allison's car was transmuted into castalanium, but the world itself has been dead for over two decades. And it isn't as if the metal itself came from there, it was just a by-product of the teleportation process that was –"

The Tomorrow Person suddenly sat up straight in his chair. His eyes widened in surprise…then he screamed.

The agonizing sound echoed through the Lab. It shocked everyone into stillness.

Then John began to shake violently, as if he were having a seizure. His eyes rolled up until only the whites were visible.

House moved quickly. "Help me!" he rapped, as he tried to wrestle the man to the ground, to keep him from falling hard.

Terry and Danielle hastened to obey. Together, the three of them got John to the floor. House glanced up at Tim's housing. "Vital signs, Tim!" he ordered.

The supercomputer relayed them, his voice sounding frightened. "He appears to be bearing the brunt of a telepathic backlash of undetermined strength," he added.

"Do you have any anti-convulsants?" The doctor was opening John's collar, his hands staying steady as he processed what Tim had told him.

"Yes, Dr. House." The unmistakable hum from the scanning table heralded the arrival of what he'd asked for.

"Here." Using telekinesis, Terry brought the syringe over.

House didn't acknowledge the man. Even though the seizure seemed to be calming, he decided not to take the chance. He rolled up the sleeve, and plunged the needle into John's arm, requesting a vital sign reading again.

"He'll be fine," he reported, once he'd processed the new information Tim had provided. Sure enough, the anti-convulsant appeared to be taking effect: John's shaking was easing, his body beginning to relax.

"Were you able ta trace de source of de telepathic attack, Tim?" Danielle asked. She'd gone pale, the green of her eyes stark against her white skin.

"No, Danielle, I was not," he answered. "It did not last long enough for a trace."

"But it be powerful enough ta knock John on his ass." She sounded disbelieving.

The seizure completely passed. John's eyes fluttered open, and his unfocused gaze managed to take them all in before they drooped closed again.

But he said one thing before losing consciousness completely.

"Allison…"

 

* * *

 

They got John tucked into bed before congregating around the link table once more. House had reassured both the Tomorrow People that John would be fine, and would sleep for a while.

The suddenness of the "attack" had shaken them all, including House – although he would be damned before admitting it. He'd counted on John to help him solve this thing…and now he was incapacitated, at least for a little while. He didn't really know Danielle and Terry enough to trust them – although he honestly could say he didn't trust John all that much, either. But Allison trusted him, and that was enough for the time being.

"I have a question," Terry spoke into the silence they'd descended into.

"Only one?" House snarked back.

Terry bristled, but continued on without missing a beat. "What did John mean when he called Allison's name?"

"P'haps he simply was t'inking of her when de attack came," Danielle supplied.

"Or maybe it was Cameron who attacked him."

Both TP looked at House as if he were crazy. "What in de hell you be on 'bout?" the Cajun woman demanded.

"Let's look at what happened." House was really missing his whiteboard. "This telepathic attack had to have been by someone who knew John personally. I doubt a random attack could have done that much damage. Am I right, Tim?"

"Indeed, Dr. House." The artificial intelligence sounded thoughtful. "John's mental defenses are formidable. Someone who knew his mind intimately could have overcome those barriers, even if John himself was not aware of it. Also, there are certain defenses in the Lab itself to prevent unwanted mental intrusion. There is, however, something that makes it certain that your hypothesis is correct."

"And that is?"

"While I was not able to track the source of the telepathic burst, it did bear Allison's unmistakable mental signature."

"But why would she attack John like that?" Terry asked, shocked.

"Who said she was attacking him?" House answered.

"Allison done know her own strength, _homme_ ," Danielle snapped. "She would'a never hurt John."

"At least, not intentionally." Now Terry sounded pensive.

House was thankful someone here – besides himself and Tim – had some brains. "Now, what I think happened is that Cameron was just reaching out to the one person she trusted above everyone else…and she was doing it perhaps in a panic, or only had a small window of opportunity and had to send it as fast as she could without knowing how much signal she had to put out."

"Which would imply she didn't know where she was. Or maybe she wasn't even aware she was doing it."

"Exactly. I think you and I are going to get along just fine, if this is your usual level of intelligence and not just a one-off thing."

Terry actually chuckled. Yes, House decided he might be okay after all.

"I t'ink it be a good idea to investigate dis planet Castalia," Danielle put in. She seemed to be insulted on Terry's behalf.

Her companion turned to look at her, and something silent passed between them. House always did think it was rude to have a telepathic conversation in front of someone who couldn't listen in, and was about to say so, when the woman laughed. "It seem I take offense an' shouldn'. I apologize, _Docteur_ House. I sometime forget dat Terry can look after himself."

He didn't think that needed a response, but he did agree with her that Castalia needed to be checked out and said so. "So, how do we get there?"

"I will contact the Trig, and arrange a long distance matter transporter beam," Tim answered. "It will take a little time."

"Dat be fine," Danielle said. "Dere be somethin' I want to check out…"

From the expression on her face, House could guess what that was.

 

* * *

 

It was a lot for Chase to take in.

He sat there, staring at his cousin. Allison was alive? And the other Tomorrow People had to know, because they would have sensed her death?

"But what about the body?" he asked helplessly. "There _is_ one, I know it."

"I'm only telling you what I know, cuz," Adam insisted. "I can't think of any way your Allison could have died without me knowing about it."

Chase chewed his lip, trying to put it all together. His thoughts wouldn't settle into just one track. Either Adam was right, and Allison was still alive somewhere, or she was dead and his cousin was talking out his ass.

If it was the second, then he might have just made a big mistake in confiding in Adam.

If it was the first, then the memorial had been a complete sham.

He didn't know which idea made him angrier.

Never mind. Yes, he did.

And he realized just who'd know the truth.

His thoughts went back to the meeting outside the chapel. John. Danielle. The other man whose name Chase didn't know.

And House.

Damn him to hell! House _knew_!

That brought Chase to his feet. House knew that Allison could be alive! Until that moment, the young doctor hasn't believed he could be so furious at his boss. It was all he could do not to go over to House's place and beat the truth out of that pompous, sarcastic bastard. They put everyone through that, for no reason! God, what about Allison's family? They couldn't have known, judging from the way they'd acted at the memorial. It was just unconscionable!

"Robbie, calm down."

Chase looked at Adam. His cousin was staring at him, concern written all over his face. "I'm okay."

"No, you're not. You've just been told that someone you care about is still alive, when you were convinced she was dead."

"All right, I'm pissed off! They _knew_ , Adam! They're letting everyone think Allison is dead!" It went a long way to explaining Danielle's change in attitude between the time he'd told her, and the memorial.

"Look, cuz, all I can say is this: I've met John, and while I don't care for him one bit, he only does things for a reason. If he's hiding the truth, then there's a purpose behind it."

"So you're saying I should trust him?"

Adam sighed. "Yeah, I suppose that _is_ what I'm saying."

Chase regarded his cousin closely. There was something in the answer that bothered him. "Do _you_ trust him?"

"Trust doesn't have anything to do with it. We don't agree with most things, but our disagreements don't come into what's going on now. He's a good man, Robbie. I _can_ honestly say that. He cares about his people, and will go to the ends of the Earth to help them."

Most of the anger Chase had been feeling vanished, leaving him somewhat deflated. He sat back down on the sofa, taking a deep breath. "How can I find out what's going on?"

Adam held up his hands, as if warding off the question. "Don't look at me! I'd do a lot of things for you, but that's not one of them. I'm not about to contact John, not even for you."

Chase stared at his cousin in surprise. "But he's one of your people!"

"Not really, cuz. It's…complicated."

"Then why don't you explain it to me."

Adam opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the doorbell. Chase cursed, not wanting to get up and answer it.

But his cousin was looking at the door intently. "I think if you answer that, you might get what you're looking for."

"You some sort of clairvoyant now?" Taking the advice, the young doctor got up.

"No. But I think _she_ might be…"

Confused about that remark, Chase opened the door.

Danielle stood there. Beside her was the man he'd seen at the hospital. She glanced around Chase, and her eyes widened.

"Well, now I be knowin' how you know 'bout us," she commented, entering the apartment. "You be Adam, right?"

Adam stood. "That's right."

"Surprised you be here, _homme_. Didn' t'ink interferin' be your style." Danielle didn't seem to be at all intimidating.

But Adam certainly looked like she was doing just that. "Robbie's my cousin," he answered, sounding defensive.

"So you be willin' to help blood relations, but not genetic ones?"

Adam actually flinched. "Do you mind turning down the power?"

The woman didn't seem to do anything, but Adam began to relax.

"What the hell is going on?" Chase demanded, glancing from her to his cousin.

"It's called "posturing", and it's not really necessary," said the unknown man, a slight smile on his handsome features. "Danielle, take a chill pill and relax. We're not here to start a fight for dominance."

"You be right, _cher_." She didn't seem at all sorry, though. "We be here ta find out just how much you know 'bout us…and 'bout Allison."

"You mean, besides the fact that I know she's not really dead?" Chase countered hotly.

"Damn." The man glanced at Adam. "Your doing, I take it?"

"Didn't think it was a deep, dark secret," Adam answered sarcastically.

"Don' t'ink much, do ya?" Danielle snarked.

Adam went red with rage. "If John would let the rest of us in on his little plans, I might have known something was up!"

"And since when did ya ever do dat to him? Last t'ing I heard, you was content ta go your own way and t'hell wit' the rest of us."

Chase wanted to defend his cousin, but he had no idea what was going on. His gaze went back and forth; it was like watching some bizarre tennis match.

"I do what I can!"

"What be dat, _homme_? When's de last time you showed your faces long enough to even help a break-out? Hell, when be the last time you actually _had_ one?"

That seemed to strike a nerve. Adam stepped forward, fists clenched. "That's none of your concern!"

Danielle didn't seem at all fazed by Adam's show of temper. "Matter o' fact, I done know de answer to dat. Your branch o' de family tree be dyin' out, wit or wit'out your help."

Adam didn't seem to have an answer to that.

The woman went on. "If'n you'd just go out and look for dem, you wouldn' be in dis much trouble. Instead, you just wait for dem to come ta you. Whereas, Terry and me, de moment we hear a break-out, we be dere, helpin' 'em out as best we can. Sometimes we fail, but at least we _try_." Her voice softened. "How many be dere of your kind, Adam? Half a dozen, if dat? John offered you and yours a place wit' us ages ago. You could'a been de ones expandin', instead of us. We done had t'ree break-outs in de last month. And Allison herself found one o' dose at dat hospital of hers. We do all we can, Adam. But you can' say dat, can you? You and yours just hide away on dat island, waiting for more ta show up. I be sorry, friend, but dey ain't comin'. I be truly sorry."

Adam's shoulders slumped. "You're right, of course. I…thought we were doing the right thing, hiding away and waiting for more of us to come. But, the longer the time goes by, the more convinced I am that we're a TP dead end."

The man – his name must have been Terry – put a hand on Danielle's shoulder. Something passed between them, and the woman looked embarrassed. "We really are sorry," he said. "We only wanted to see if Dr. Chase was going to be a danger to us."

The aforementioned doctor didn't quite understand what had just happened, but he felt as if something very important had transpired. If he had to guess, he would have said that Danielle was accusing his cousin of sitting on his hands while others were out doing. And what had Adam meant by "a TP dead end?" Chase did get the whole genetics thing, but he'd thought all Tomorrow People were the same. Apparently that wasn't the case.

"I'm not a danger," he answered. "I just want to know where Allison is."

There was another glance between Danielle and Terry. The man nodded. "First of all, you can't tell anyone she's alive. It's for your protection as well as ours."

"What could happen?"

"You coul' end up as Allison did – dead in a cold morgue," Danielle replied quietly. "And I not be exagg'ratin' here, _Docteur_ Chase."

Chase was confused by that answer. "But you –" he pointed toward Terry "—just said she was alive."

"Yes, she is," the man agreed. "But there is, indeed, a body, and it was left to make us think she was dead."

"I t'ink you be better sittin' down," Danielle suggested.

Chase did as she asked.

They explained everything…or at least it seemed like everything.

It was enough to confuse the hell out of him.

Chase was a normal human being. He'd never been like Adam, with special powers and a hidden spaceship on a deserted South Pacific island. There'd been nothing out of the ordinary in his life – unless he wanted to count that whole family drama. As close as he'd been to his cousin, this was the one thing he couldn't really understand. And, when Allison had turned out to be like Adam, it had truly been the final straw in making Chase see that there was more strangeness out there in the world than even he was prepared for.

And now, he was being told that Allison had been kidnapped, and had been exchanged with a clone to make it appear as if she was dead. That the reason it was being hidden from anyone was to keep it from happening to anyone else. If he hadn't contacted Adam, chances were he'd never had known. When Danielle and Terry had shown up on his doorstep, their story would have been that they were checking on him, and then they'd try to get as much information out of him as possible.

They'd even suspected him of being involved in her disappearance.

And he'd discovered – through no fault of his own – that there were two genetic branches of the Tomorrow People family tree…if he could interpret the argument between Adam and Danielle correctly. One of them was succeeding, while the other was dying off. He knew his evolution theory, knew about survival of the fittest. It appeared as if Danielle, Allison, and their kind were the fittest in this case.

He wondered what their other differences were.

Both Danielle and Terry were looking at him expectantly. Chase turned to his cousin; Adam was at the window, staring out. He wondered if any of this story had registered with the other Tomorrow Person at all.

"Look, I can't pretend I get a lot of what you said," Chase answered them. "But I do understand that Allison is in danger. I want to help."

Danielle shot a look toward Adam, while something passed between herself and Terry. If Chase had to guess, it was a comparison between himself and his cousin. He didn't know if he should take offense on Adam's behalf or not.

Chase had known all about Adam's choice to hide himself and his friends. It had seemed like a good one at the time; his cousin had claimed that there were so few of them that they didn't dare draw attention to themselves. So, when he'd put together what he'd observed about Allison, he'd been prepared to keep her secret, since he already knew about Adam's it wasn't that difficult. But now it was being intimated that Adam had been wrong in hiding so completely, and in fact had hidden so well he hadn't done anything to perpetuate his own race. While Allison – and her branch of the Tomorrow People family tree – had been doing the exact opposite.

He'd noticed there were times when Allison would disappear, and how House would cover for her. Now he knew, she'd been out using her powers for the betterment of her people.

It made him respect her so much more.

"We 'preciate your offer, _Docteur_ Chase," Danielle replied. "Guess what we be needin' to know be if you'd noticed anyone hangin' 'round de hospital lately, maybe watchin' Allison or her movements."

He wracked his brain. "No, can't say as I've seen anyone suspicious like that." He was disappointed that he couldn't help them that way.

"'Tink you can keep an eye out, see if anyone be askin' questions dey don' have a right to ask?"

"Sure I can." Chase had been hoping to do more.

As if reading his mind, Danielle leaned forward and patted him on the arm. "I know you be feelin' helpless, but we don' really have dat much to go on right now. We be hopin' to catch whoever be doin' dis by findin' out if anyone been overly curious 'bout Allison."

"But you'll call me if I can be of any help." He deliberately didn't make it a question.

Danielle opened her mouth to answer, but Terry beat her to it. "Of course we will."

Chase didn't know if he meant it, but hearing it made him feel better. "Thanks."

The woman glanced at Adam. She must have spoken to him telepathically, because he turned to look at her. He nodded. She smiled slightly in return.

Chase hoped they were making up.

The pair of them stood. Chase followed suit. "We'll keep in touch," Terry promised, holding out his hand.

The doctor took it. "I look forward to hearing from you."

Danielle smiled at him. "In case you be wonderin', I didn' read your mind at de hospital. You just put off such strong vibes I couldn' miss 'em."

He hadn't, actually. It never occurred to him, so used was he to Adam's politeness in that regard. Although it was good to know that the other Tomorrow People were equally as polite.

"Been nice meetin' you, _Docteur_ Chase. Glad to know you ain't involved – " Danielle's voice faded out.

Chase watched in surprised as the woman's eyes rolled up, until only the whites were showing. He reached out to grab her in case she fell, but Terry stopped him. The man shook his head in gentle warning. "She's okay, it's just a facet of her power."

"What power?"

Terry didn't answer. Instead, he held his hand out; a deck of cards appeared out of thin air. They would never be mistaken for a normal deck; the cards were about a third bigger. They also looked incredibly old, the edges worn smooth by years – if not decades – of use.

He put the cards in Danielle's hand. The woman held them between both palms, as if warming them. Then she turned the top card over.

Chase was surprised to discover that this was a Tarot deck. The colors on the upturned card were faded with age, but he could still make out the word on the base of the card:

The Emperor.

He looked back up into Danielle's face. Her eyes were back to normal, but they were afraid. "What did you see?" Terry asked worriedly.

"John," was the only word she said.

But the way she said it made Chase concerned for the other Tomorrow Person, and he didn't know why.

"Divination," came his cousin's whisper from Chase's elbow.

So, Adam had been serious about the clairvoyant thing…

 

* * *

 

John awoke, feeling as if someone had kicked his skull in with steel-toed boots.

He moaned involuntarily. He hadn't felt this badly in a long time, and all he wanted to do was retreat back into painless sleep. But instead he peeled his eyes open, squinting in the dim light shining from somewhere nearby. It took a force of will to keep them open until he could identify his surroundings.

He was back in his room, in the Lab. John tried to remember how he'd gotten there, but it was all a blank. He could recall talking to Danielle, Terry, and House around the link table…then nothing.

What the hell had happened to him?

He didn't dare call out to anyone telepathically, afraid that it might cause his brain to explode. He pushed the blanket away, levering himself upright. His head began to pulse in time with his heartbeat, and nausea roiled in his stomach. John eyed the short trip to the lavatory with dread, wondering if he could get there quickly enough if he needed to.

The symptoms were familiar: he'd suffered through psychic attacks before, and this had all the earmarks of a particularly nasty one. But how had it happened? The Lab was shielded against unknown telepathic influences, and his own defenses were fairly strong. How had someone managed to get past both?

"How are you feeling, John?" came Tim's tentative voice from the speaker in the corner.

He had to clear his throat twice before he could formulate an answer. "I feel like my head wants to find itself a new home. What the hell happened?"

"I have been analyzing what I know about the incident, and I believe that Allison tried to contact you."

John's heart leaped, making his head pound even more, but he didn't care. That would certainly explain how the assault had gotten through; his mind had been aware of her, even if his consciouness hadn't. "Did you manage to trace her?"

"Unfortunately not. I did not actually receive the signal itself, plus it was very short in duration."

"And very powerful. How did Allison get access to so much power?"

"That is unknown, although judging from your reaction the telepathic burst must have been amplified somehow."

"How did you come up with it being Allison?"

"I did not, John. You did."

"I can't remember a thing." He searched for some memory of the event, and all he could find was a large, black hole.

"You spoke her name as you came out of the seizure."

"Did I?"

"Indeed. I was able to confirm that it was her mental signature, however it was Dr. House who put what we'd witnessed into a viable hypothesis."

Of course it had been House. John might not like the man, but he did respect his intelligence and his skills, and he was glad to have him on the team.

"Are they all still here?" John tried to get to his feet, managing on the third attempt.

"No. It was decided that everyone would get some rest while you recovered."

That made sense. The elder TP glanced at his watch; it read 4:38am. He'd been unconscious for a little over ten hours. John groaned. More time wasted, but at least they had confirmation that Allison was apparently all right. "Has there been any other contact with Allison? Have Danielle or Terry received anything?"

"No. It appears she has gone back to being blocked by whoever is holding her captive. Danielle and Terry did try to reach her, but to no avail."

"Damn."

"Should you be up? The feedback you received was quite strong."

John grimaced. Sometimes Tim could be the biggest mother hen… "I'll be all right, once I get a shower and some proper sleep."

He made his rather unsteady way into the main section of the Lab. As Tim had said, it was quite deserted, and John found he liked it that way.

"Can I get you anything?"

"A glass of water please, Tim." Once the requested drink had appeared, John sat down at the link table, the better to get off his shaky legs. The supercomputer might be overprotective, but this time he was right – not that the elder Tomorrow Person was about to admit it. He felt as weak as a kitten at that moment. The walk had about done him in. "What else happened while I was unconscious?"

"It was decided that it would be of use to investigate Castalia."

That made sense. John seemed to remember House making mention of it, before Allison's mental "scream" knocked him out. "Have you contacted the Trig yet about using a long-distance matter transporter beam?"

"I have, and am waiting to hear back from Timus."

"That might take a while, knowing the rampant bureaucracy he has to deal with." Timus might have once been the President of the Federation, but that didn't mean he could wave a hand and make transport appear.

"I think it would be a good idea if you rested, John." The artificial intelligence was stern.

"I…want to argue with you, but I don't think I have it in me."

"It was good that Dr. House was present. He took control of the situation and was able to help you most expeditiously."

"Tim, I'd like to ask you something."

"You can ask me anything."

"Just how well do you get along with Dr. House?"

The biotronic computer was silent for a second. "We have spoken many times on the telephone, John. He is a most…fascinating personality."

"That really doesn't answer my question."

Tim chuckled. "He is a friend. Does that give you the answer you seek?"

John smiled. "Yes, it does. Thank you, Tim." It meant Tim trusted the doctor, and that was good enough.

"You're most welcome. Now, I think you should rest."

"I intend to. But I think I'd like to do it at my flat, if you don't mind."

"Is that a good idea? You have been through an ordeal."

"I'll be fine. Quit worrying about me." Something in Tim's tone set the alarm bells to ringing. "What else happened while I was out?"

The biotronic computer hesitated. "Danielle experienced a non-specific divinatory episode concerning you."

That wasn't anything to ignore, but John also knew that, if she didn't have any actual facts, there wasn't anything anyone could do about it except be prepared for whatever it was. "I can always call if anything happens."

"Yes, of course you can. In that case, I shall be more than happy to jaunt you to your flat myself. You should not overtax yourself."

John was more than happy to let Tim take control of the transport. "I agree. Thank you again, Tim. Call me when the others get back."

"I shall. Sleep well, John."

"Goodnight."

He made his unsteady way up to the jaunting pad. In seconds, the familiar surroundings of his London flat appeared around him. John wanted to just collapse on the couch, but didn't dare if he actually wanted to sleep in his own bed. He seriously doubted he'd get back up once he was down.

Getting to the bedroom took a little longer than normal; there were a couple of times when the world would turn a bit out of control, and his stomach would lurch in response. He hated feeling this way, but at least something good had come of it. The contact with Allison was a welcome one, even if he didn't remember a thing.

Deciding not to risk a shower, for fear of falling and doing more damage than was already done, John carefully turned down the bed and changed into pajamas. All the while his thoughts traveled back to Allison. What had happened to her, to make her cry out like that? What had given her the power to lay him out the way she had? Yes, she'd always been a strong telekinetic – in fact, she was the strongest one he'd ever met – but in the telepathy department she was only truly a bit above average. Each Tomorrow Person had an ability that was stronger than the others, while others had powers that were rare…like the limited divination that Danielle had, or the rapport that she and Terry shared. His own was something he didn't often dwell on, due to the consequences it had wrought in his life.

Allison hadn't really had a rare gift…but she was incredibly strong telekinetically. That wouldn't explain how her telepathy had been jacked up way above normal. She must have had access to something, for just the short time she'd been in contact with him. John knew she'd never have deliberately hurt him. It had to have been a split second decision…even if she'd been aware of what she was doing.

The bed felt heavenly. John lay there, trying to clear his mind, but it just kept heading back toward Allison and her plight. He was still desperately worried about her. The memorial had taken more out of him than he'd thought. Seeing her family there – being welcomed into that family – had been almost beyond him. When he'd suggested that they hide the truth from them, he'd had Allison's best interests at heart, and those of the other Tomorrow People. But knowing there were people out there going through hell over what was apparently Allison's death…he'd almost said something to them.

John knew empathy wasn't something he was particularly good at. But Allison was a dear friend, someone he'd just reconnected with after so many wasted years. He was very proud of what she'd made of her life, but he wasn't sure he'd really told her that.

He vowed that he would, when they got her back.

Eventually, he managed to calm his thoughts. Tim had been right: John really needed to get more rest. His head was still throbbing. The closest thing he could compare it to was a migraine, but it was a completely different sort of pain.

John wasn't aware of dozing off until he was awakened by a gentle touch across his mind.

His eyes snapped opened. _"Who's there?"_ he asked without thinking. That mental inquiry was enough to make his head ache more, but he didn't care.

The presence didn't answer. Instead, it faded away.

He sat upright, ignoring the pain. Someone was trying to contact him, he was certain of it. _"Don't leave,"_ he encouraged. _"It's all right."_

That touch returned. _"John…"_ came a whispered reply.

" _Allison? Is that you?"_ Maybe she'd realized how overpowering her last call had been, and was trying to be more careful. He opened his mind to her completely, hoping to show that he was fine, and she was welcome.

The contact seemed to fade once more. John grew frustrated. How could he reach out to her, to reassure her that everything was all right?

He was so convinced that this was Allison that he blinded himself to the danger he was putting himself into.

And then it was too late.

A strong force crashed into his unprotected mind. John thought he heard a scream, as he tried to battle back against this incursion.

If the pain he'd suffered from Allison's contact had been bad, this was infinitely worse. He struggled to raise his barriers, but his mind seemed far too sluggish and wasn't responding. His attacker pounded into his brain like a jackhammer, forcing John's own consciousness farther and farther under.

John didn't panic. He gathered all his remaining strength, and struck back. The presence recoiled slightly, then came at him even harder than before. Instinctively his mind retreated, trying to escape what was happening.

He attempted to contact someone – anyone – but the mental force wouldn't let anything get past it.

For one of the few times in his life, John was utterly helpless against whoever it was that was attacking him.

As his mind finally shut down, the last thought he had was that this must have been what Allison had gone through. And that he should have paid more attention to Danielle…

 

* * *

 

"Morning, Tim."

"Good morning, Greg. Did you sleep well?"

House limped down from the jaunting pad, putting his cell phone away as he did. His bill was going to be outrageous, with all these overseas calls… "Not too bad, actually." If Tim was calling him "Greg," that would mean they were alone in the Lab. He was the only one who called him that outside of his parents, but House didn't really mind as long as he kept it private. "I take it John's either not here, or not awake yet?" It might not be a good sign if the Tomorrow Person was still sleeping.

"John awoke at 4:38am this morning, and expressed a wish to return to his flat. I jaunted him there."

The doctor looked at his watch, adding the time difference. "It's almost noon now. Have you tried to talk to him yet?"

"No, I have not. There could still be residual pain from the psychic backlash. However, I did promise to make contact when any of you arrived back."

House was somewhat concerned. After all, what he did know about John was that the TP wasn't one to slug around in bed all day, even if still facing the effects of that mental barrage yesterday. "I think you should."

Tim must have caught the edge in his voice, because he said, "Do you suspect something?"

"Just call him."

The supercomputer went silent for a second, then two. "He is not answering." Tim was worried.

House went back to the jaunting pad. "I'll check on him."

"Thank you, Greg. I will transport you to his flat at once."

The Lab faded out around him.

The first thing he noticed upon materializing was the piano.

It had pride of place in one corner of the living room, and was complimented by several tall bookshelves, their contents neatly arranged. A comfortable leather sofa and chair took up most of the room, along with a stereo system that seemed to loom along one wall. Racks of CD's and LP's sat on either side of the massive stack of equipment.

However well House was presupposed to like John at that moment, due to his musical inclinations, the lack of a television bothered him. How can someone _not_ have one? That just wasn't _right_ …

It was then he noticed the pictures.

They were arrayed along the wall, around the piano. House's curiosity was really getting to him, and he moved forward to take a look.

The people in the photos changed from one to another; the only constant in most of them was John himself, although his age changed. In one, he looked to be about eighteen, surrounded by a group of kids his age or younger. Eventually, he became the eldest in each he was in, the last one showed him at his present age, with two he recognized as Elena and Paul, and a teenager he apparently hadn't met yet. He wondered if this was the Robert who Tim has mentioned.

House realized he was looking at a Tomorrow Person gallery. This was a timeline of TP existence, starting with the first group and ending with the current. He immediately went searching for one photograph that he knew had to be there.

And it was.

The girl with red hair had to be Danielle, and the younger man – already starting to go bald – was Terry.

The teenager in the picture was wearing a t-shirt with a dragon on it, and jeans that were ripped at the knees. She was smiling, revealing braces. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked so very happy.

So, this was Allison Cameron as a kid. House had heard the story, of how she'd become disillusioned with the whole idea of being special, but he had to wonder if there'd been more to it. If she'd been that happy, then what had changed her so much that she'd gone through a large chunk of her life pretending to be something she wasn't?

House shook himself. He was there to check on John, to see why he wasn't answering Tim. "John? Are you here?" he called, scanning the room for anything that might be out of the ordinary.

There was no answer.

He ducked his head into the kitchen; it was as neat as the rest of the apartment. Nothing was wrong there.

It was in the bedroom that House found out what had happened to John.

The Tomorrow Person lay stretched out on the bed, on top of rumpled sheets. His pale skin was thrown into harsh relief by the dark brown pajamas he was wearing. John looked as if he was merely sleeping, but House's trained eyes told him a completely different story.

John was dead.

The doctor part of House took over immediately. He sat on the bed next to the body, checking for visible sign of injury. The only thing he could find was a thin trickle of dried blood staining his left ear. Judging from the condition of the body, House had to guess he'd been dead for at least six hours.

He stood up once more. This was just lovely. Now they had another mystery on their hands. Was this really John, or had he, too, replaced by a clone? Tim would be able to tell that. If it were, indeed, a clone, how did whoever it was find out about John? Had the telepathic contact from Allison have something to do with it? House didn't believe in coincidence, and this just stank.

And, if John really were dead…well, he sincerely doubted that. House was certain at least one of the others would have sensed it, and there'd have been an alarm raised. And what about Danielle? She was supposed to be able to see the future. Shouldn't she have seen something happening? If she had, House wouldn't be the one here, snooping into another person's life.

He took the cell phone out of his pocket. This wasn't going to go over well at all…

 

* * *

 

"Yes, Greg. This is also a clone."

House didn't like the way Tim was sounding: as if the artificial intelligence had been through so much he didn't have anything left to give. It was odd; while House didn't often empathize with his patients, he could with this living machine.

The corpse lay on a bed-like bench that Tim had brought out. The doctor had done a full examination while Tim had run the deeper scans, and decided he would have been absolutely convinced that this was, indeed, the man he'd once treated for critical injuries. There was even a faint abdominal scar from where they'd operated, to remove John's damaged spleen. "How did this one die?"

Tim didn't answer for a second. "A massive intracranial hemorrhage. Death would have been…nearly instantaneous."

House didn't miss the catch in the biotronic computer's voice. Yes, it would have been a quick – and painful – way to die. "Tim, this isn't John."

"I…know that. But…" The computer fell silent.

"But what?"

"Danielle attempted to warn us last night that something might happen. However, she did not have any details, only that it would involve John. I should have tried to convince him to stay here, instead of going home."

"There's no way any of us could've known. And, if Danielle couldn't tell anything specific… It's not your fault, Tim."

Okay, just how weird was it that he was trying to comfort a _machine_?

But then, House didn't really consider Tim a machine. He considered Tim a _friend_ , one of the few he had. Well, one of the two he had…but comforting? Come on! That was Cameron's role, for Christ's sake!

That made him think of Allison, and where she might be now. And the fact that she might have been inadvertently behind John's kidnapping.

He told Tim this thought. "It could be possible that Allison's attempted communication was used to discover John's whereabouts," the AI mused. "I very much doubt she would have done anything purposely."

"It's the only thing that makes sense. This clone appeared only after that apparent attack. And, while I know Cameron would never do anything to lead anyone to any of you, it had to have happened that way." That was an understatement: she'd been willing to hide her power no matter what. And that was what had led to this entire mess in the first place. "But, in a way, this might be a good thing."

"Why do you say that?"

"It means that, whoever took the two of them, is still in the area. And that might make them easier to find." Of course, House realized he might be uncharacteristically hopeful, but it was all he had.

He hadn't known how much he was depending on the elder TP to help in finding Allison. Now that John was out of the picture, House's confidence was crashing. Yes, he still had Danielle and Terry, but he didn't really know them. Terry had shown quite a bit of intelligence yesterday, but there was something about the other man that bothered House. It was as if his intuition was trying to tell him something, and his conscious mind was flatly refusing to listen.

As for Danielle…well he just didn't believe in this whole divination thing. After all, she hadn't picked up anything about Allison's disappearance, and her power had also failed in John's case. She did say she'd sensed something, but what that something was had been vague. Why had it taken House's own suspicion about a possible complication from last night's psionic "attack" to bring this clone to their attention?

The one good thing about this whole situation was that, now John was with Allison…wherever she was. If she'd somehow found a way to contact her friend, then perhaps the two of them together might be able to escape?

And House knew John would do everything in his power to protect her. If there was one thing he _was_ certain of, was that John took his responsibility toward his fellow Tomorrow People very seriously. They'd argued a couple of times over Allison – and House hoped she'd never find out – but he could see just how much John cared for her. There hadn't been anything romantic about their relationship; it was just that they trusted one another implicitly. It was a trust that House knew he'd never be able to earn.

"You are perhaps correct," Tim answered. "And at least we can be glad that John is now with Allison, and will do his best to look after her."

The corner of House's mouth turned up in a smirk. Trust Tim to know what he was thinking without actually reading his mind. "Maybe we should get the clone out of here before Danielle and Terry show up."

"They do need to be told."

"I'm not saying we hide what happened from them. I doubt we could anyway. But I don't think they need to see this, do you?"

"Of course, you are right, Greg. I appear not to be thinking logically."

"Not a problem." Anyone else he would have blasted for saying something silly like that, but House just couldn't do that to Tim. He respected the supercomputer too much. Besides, he knew quite a bit about John and Tim's relationship, and he found himself taking that into consideration. He wouldn't do that for just anyone… "What can we do with it?"

"I should contact the Trig. Perhaps with better equipment they may be able to discover more than I can." Tim's voice sounded a bit livelier, as if taking whatever comfort House was offering to whatever passed for a heart.

"You do that. And speaking of the Trig, did you hear back about that long-distance beam thing whatever-it-is?"

"The long distance matter transporter beam." There was actual a chuckle in that warm voice now. "Yes, I had heard back from our old friend Timus just before you arrived. He can arrange one to the Trig, but after that we shall have to arrange transportation. Unfortunately, Castalia is far enough from galactic center that a beam is unfeasible."

"That means a spaceship, then?" House wanted to say how cool it sounded, but did recognize that this meant it would take more time to get there.

"Yes, it does. I have taken the opportunity to ask Timus to seek out a ship we might hire, and he has agreed."

"Who'll pilot it then?"

Tim pondered. "We can either find one of the senior Tomorrow People to pilot it –"

"Which wouldn't be a good idea, if we're really going to keep this a secret."

"Or we can hire a pilot," he finished as if House hadn't interrupted. "John would want us to protect the others as long as possible, if indeed this has something to do with all the Tomorrow People as a whole."

"I'm actually beginning to doubt that. After all, John wasn't taken until Cameron tried to contact him. And Terry didn't sense anything at all at the memorial, so no one was snooping around with any sort of powers there. I don't think anyone knows anything about the Tomorrow People until they draw attention to themselves. Or they draw attention to each other."

"You are most likely correct, Greg. However, it would still be a good idea to keep this as quiet as possible until we know the actual reason for their kidnapping. The more people involved, the greater chance that someone else _will_ be taken, despite any precautions we may take. I know John thought that having Danielle and Terry knowing was bad enough."

"Too late now."

"Unfortunately." Tim paused. "I have heard from Timus. He says that he can arrange a transport beam to take the clone away. He will arrange to have it studied, and perhaps the scientists on the Trig can come up with something new."

House really wanted to be one of the doctors checking out this corpse. His curiosity was itching so badly he wanted to physically scratch.

But he also knew – with every instinct he had – that any chance of finding Allison would be in their current line of investigation.

And that would mean going to Castalia.

 

* * *

 

Cameron staggered from the cubicle. The first thing she did was throw up all over the deck.

That had to have been the worst experience of her entire life. And, she'd had quite a few bad times to compare it to.

Her head was destroyed. It felt as it were actually breathing, her brain was throbbing so hard. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and die.

"Allison?" came a tentative voice.

She looked up from where she was kneeling on the cold deck. Marqa stood over her, looking wrecked herself. "I never want to do that again," she whispered.

The Castalii woman nodded sympathetically. "I understand, truly I do. But we do not have a choice. We must do what we can to survive."

But Cameron didn't want to survive, not like this. This was Hell, with a capital H, and it wasn't somewhere she wanted to be.

She had to escape.

The problem was, she was so weak, she didn't think she could move, let alone get away from wherever this was. Being hooked directly into the ship had drained her so very badly.

She couldn't really remember a lot of what had happened on her "shift." After the initial pain and disorientation, there was such a flurry of input there was no way she could keep it all straight. The best she could do was try to keep up, and hope her mind wasn't overloaded by it all.

It seemed as if she'd been like that forever. Cameron didn't have any true idea of how long she'd been in that cubicle. Any time sense she may have had was hopelessly messed up.

"With some rest, you will feel better." Marqa helped her to her unsteady feet. "I shall take you to her cabin."

Cameron was guilty about making the woman help her, but she didn't think she could honestly manage on her own. The Castalii was so tiny and delicate-looking, but she had a strength that didn't match her small frame.

The other workers staggered along with them. Cameron wondered how long these people had been doing this. How long would she, herself, be trapped here? All she could do was hope that John and the others would be able to find her before doing this would either kill her, or drive her insane.

She didn't know how she got to her tiny cabin without going down and taking her escort with her, but finally Cameron was able to collapse onto the uncomfortable cot, feeling as if she were laying on the most wonderful feather bed imaginable. Even the throbbing in her head couldn't keep her conscious…

 

* * *

 

" – is not right."

The soft voice brought Cameron out of her slumber. She lay there, not wanting to open her eyes and start the terrible thumping all over again.

"We all had to become accustomed to the work," came another voice, a man's.

"She is not reacting as we did." This was Marqa, and the alien woman sounded concerned. "Yes, at first it was difficult, but none of us became physically ill. Nor did any of us scream as she did."

Cameron knew they were talking about her. She wanted to say something, to let them know she was awake, but she felt so lethargic it just didn't seem worth the effort.

"She will recover," the man's voice asserted. "She is very powerful."

"Power has nothing to do with how she will handle the work," Marqa insisted.

"The Magestrin do not care. They only require us to run their vessel. And, when we are gone, they will find others. Just as they found this alien woman."

"You are wrong, Cardesh! _They_ did not find her. _We_ did, and _we_ brought this onto her, stealing her away from friends and family to a certain death here. Does that make us any better than the Magestrin?"

"We had no choice! You know that!"

"Perhaps we should have all refused to work in the beginning."

"It would have meant our deaths!"

"And is this life what any of us would have wished for? Perhaps the rest of our people had the right of it."

"She is awake." This was a third voice, another woman's. Her voice was incredibly sad.

A cool hand touched Cameron's forehead. That contact seemed to give her the strength she needed to finally open her eyes.

The woman above her was in shades of green. She smiled gently, taking her hand away. "You slept for a long while. Marqa was concerned for you."

"I…was concerned for me, too," Cameron admitted. Her voice sounded horrible, all gravely and weak.

The woman held a cup to her lips. Cameron was terribly thirsty, and wanted nothing more than to gulp the liquid – it was water – down. But her medical training persevered, and she took it slowly.

"Very good," the woman soothed, once the water was gone. "Do you feel up to eating something?"

"I…should try." Cameron struggled to sit, and the woman helped her.

Marqa stood just inside the door, a man with blue highlights and eyes with her. He looked ancient, fine wrinkles creasing his face. His face was stern, but when he saw Cameron looking at him, his eyes softened a little. "I am Cardesh, an elder of my people," he introduced himself. "You are welcome among us."

"Pardon me for seeming rude, but I don't really want to be here. I'd prefer to be home, with my family."

Cardesh's face went stern once more. "This is impossible. You are here now, and you cannot leave. You need to accept that."

Cameron thought that she didn't _have_ to accept anything, but kept it to herself. She just had to wait, and John and the other Tomorrow People would find her. But, in the meantime… "I'd like to know more about this place."

"Of course you would." Cardesh tried to smile, but the expression didn't really fit his face. "Come, and eat with us. We shall explain everything you need to know."

Which implied there were things she _didn't_ need to know. Well, she'd see about that…

The three Castalii escorted her from her room, and down the corridor in the opposite direction from where she'd first gone. They turned left down the first side hall, then right.

They passed more Castalii on the way. Cameron examined them as they went, and the first thing she noticed was that there were no youngsters or children among them. They were also every color of the rainbow, and she wondered what had caused such a variety of pigmentation to appear in their people.

At the end of the corridor, a large room opened up in front of Cameron and her escort. It reminded her of nothing more than a school cafeteria. Rows of picnic-style tables – only metal – formed an aisle down the center of the room, toward what looked like a serving line, complete with trays and the rack to slide them down the line on. She suppressed the giggle that threatened to pop out, diagnosing near-hysteria as the cause.

Everything was made at a shorter height, but it was manageable. Cameron took one of the aluminum-like trays, and let the Castalii – all of them blue except for a lone silvery woman – fill it with a variety of foods. Some of them looked familiar; she could swear the white lumpy substance was mashed potatoes. But others were unknown to her, and while Cameron would usually steer clear away from something she didn't recognize, her empty stomach was telling her that she would only at her own peril. A plastic cup was handed to her at the end of the line, and she took her meal to the closest table.

It was short, and she found her knees banging into the bottom of the tabletop. She had to swivel around and eat from the side in order to sit comfortably.

The food didn't last long. After her shift, Cameron had felt as if she'd never be able to keep anything down again. But, faced with the presence of the meal before her, her stomach was practically demanding to be fed. She really didn't taste any of it. Her mother would have accused her of "inhaling" her dinner.

Cameron didn't even care if she were being rude to her tablemates. They hadn't gotten any food, and at her raised eyebrow Marqa replied, "We have already eaten."

"While you are eating, I shall explain something of our life here," Cardesh began.

She nodded, remembering enough of her manners not to talk with her mouth open.

"As you are aware, we are the Castalii. We once were a free people, our world a beautiful and peaceful place. We gained mental powers many centuries ago, but did not follow the evolution of the other worlds: whereas others had a host of powers, our mental abilities were compartmentalized. One could be a telepath, or a telekinetic, or a healer; but one could not be all three. The Federation approached us, and asked if we wanted to become a member, however we chose not to. We decided instead to be neutral, yet welcome all races to our world.

"That was a mistake, as we learned to our horror. Had we accepted the protection of the Federation, the Magestrin could not have taken large sections of our population to power their world-ship."

"World-ship?" Cameron asked, around a mouthful of some sort of meat.

"Yes. The Magestrin race live on a single ship. It is about the size of a small moon."

The human woman swallowed. "But surely they didn't always need telepaths to run their ship. I think we would have heard of that." In fact, she had once heard the Magestrin mentioned, but it had been in a completely different context. "The Federation would never have put up with it, even if your people _weren't_ members."

"You would be correct, Allison," Marqa spoke up. "While we do not know exactly what convinced them to use the Castalii as their power source, we do know that it was not always the case. This ship had used conventional means to travel, once."

"We are a perpetually reusable source of energy," Cardesh said harshly.

Cameron thought back on her trip to the "cafeteria," and what she'd seen. "But that's not the case, is it?"

"No." Marqa grinned fiercely. "They may control our lives, but the cannot control our reproductive organs."

"They did try, at first," the green woman – who still had not given her name – answered, "but when they realized their methods would not work, they ceased."

Cameron wondered just what those "methods" were. She shivered slightly. The woman caught the movement and nodded in affirmation at the reaction. "But now these Magestrin have to go looking for replacements. And that means they think they have the right to take a Federation citizen, perform unwanted implantation surgery, and make them one of their slaves? I don't think so!" She was so angry, she lost her appetite. The spoon she'd been using hit the tray with a clank.

Cardesh looked confused. "How can you be a Federation citizen? We were told your world was a closed one."

"Did the Magestrin tell you this?"

The elder nodded.

"We have taken a Federation citizen!" Marqa was practically crowing with delight. "This is indeed wonderful news!"

The green woman was grinning. "The great Magestrin have finally made their error! It was certain to happen someday, although I dreaded of never seeing it."

"But they think she is dead," Cardesh argued.

"But our clones are imperfect. With the proper equipment, they are detectable as such."

Cameron found herself grinning as well. John would know the body left in her place wasn't her. All he'd have to do is have Tim run a scan…she'd always had the ultimate faith in both of them, but this news was the icing on the cake.

All she had to do was wait.

If she could survive being plugged into the ship, that is.

But, even as she considered that her closest friends would be looking for her, she thought about the ones who'd think she was dead. Her family, her friends…they would have a body to bury, and to mourn over.

And her thoughts turned inexorably to House.

What would he be doing, now that he believed she was gone? Would he be mourning her as well? She didn't kid herself where House was concerned; he didn't have the same feelings for her that she had for him. That was all too certain.

But all she'd ever done was try to protect him. Cameron had no idea if he even knew what she was doing, and a part of her was sorry he wasn't aware of it. She was so afraid he'd get pulled into her world, simply out of curiosity, and she'd do anything to keep that from happening. Her world could be a very dangerous place.

Case in point…her current circumstances.

Yet, at the same time she almost wished he'd be the one to find her. She had this sudden image of him, limping to her rescue wearing dented armor and wielding his cane like a broadsword. She snickered.

Her companions all looked at her. "It's nothing," she replied to those stares.

"Do you understand what this might mean?" Cardesh asked helplessly. "This could be the end of our people if the Federation investigate."

"Cardesh, my husband," the green woman said gently, "our people ended a long time ago. We are but ghosts who walk this vessel, doing the Magestrin's bidding out of rote."

The elder actually rung his hands. "We must survive as long as we can. We are the last."

"We will die eventually, no matter what well meaning plans the elders have," Marqa pointed out. "We are only prolonging our agony."

"You will never get the rest of our people to agree!"

"Perhaps not. But that does not change the fact that we have taken a Federation citizen. That will bring repercussions."

"Look," Cameron tried to soothe the ruffled feelings at the table, "the Federation won't do anything to bring unnecessary harm to your people. But what the Magestrin are doing is wrong. The Castalii deserve better. Besides, it's best that this stops now, before more innocents are taken, or worse yet: any more Federation people. Right now, they've just taken me. If it gets any worse, it could be construed as an act of war." She didn't point out that the Galactic Federation had bigger things on their collective minds than one lone Tomorrow Person.

Cardesh suddenly looked very guilty.

Cameron stared at him, and he couldn't look her in the eye. "What have you done?" she whispered.

The blue alien sighed. "When you were first connected to the ship, you screamed."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Such a feeling of dread came over her.

"The Magestrin were surprised that you could use the ship's own power to generate such a strong telepathic scream. It was shut down almost immediately – that is what the implants also do, they suppress the more overt of our talents – but not before you…contacted someone."

The terror that suddenly enveloped her took Cameron's breath away. "What have you done?" she repeated.

Cardesh actually flinched at the pain in those words. "The Magestrin asked that we trace the telepathic call. We were able to do so."

Cameron stood up, towering over the alien. "What did you _do_?" she shouted. "Did you take them, too?" Oh, God…who did she reach out to? Who did she just condemn to this hell?

The man simply stood, and walked out of the cafeteria. Cameron followed, her heart hammering so hard she thought it would burst from her chest. What had she done? She didn't remember, most of the time connected to the ship was a complete blur. She'd been in such pain at the time; it must have been an unconscious thing.

Who had she called out to?

They went down the corridor, and back toward where her own tiny cabin was. Cardesh stopped at a hatch just two away.

"I am sorry," he murmured, pulling the door open.

Cameron pushed past him, dreading to see what was inside. And what she saw, sent her to her knees.

John.

 

* * *

 

"Where be it?"

Danielle was sitting at the link table, her pale skin whiter than usual. Terry stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder, looking as if the world had just dropped out from under him.

House and Tim had been the bearer of the bad news about John. They were taking it pretty well, all things considered. House wondered what they would do next, if these two had the guts to take the steps they'd need to get their people back. John was their leader, after all. Were they capable of independent action?

He knew he'd have faith in his own people to work things out without him, and had even come to the conclusion that, if anything happened to him that required medical attention, there weren't three he'd trust more to work on him. Of course, telling them that would be a monumentally bad idea, because he didn't want them to get the wrong notion about him, and know he actually thought that highly of them. They were his "ducklings," and he needed them to be unsettled around him. It was his way of teaching them what they would need to know.

Did John have the same faith? Of course he did, at least in some of his people: Allison was one, and he suspected that Paul and Elena were others. But what about these two? He remembered how the elder TP had referred to Danielle: as a complication. Had that been because she'd stumbled into what was going on, or was it for some other reason that House wasn't aware of?

"The clone is on the Trig, Danielle," Tim answered quietly. "Timus has scientists examining it for any further evidence of who might have taken both John and Allison."

"But I tried to warn ya'll!" Now the _Cadien_ Tomorrow Person was angry. "I seen somethin' comin'!"

"Yes, you did," Tim agreed. "However, you know as well as myself and John that your seeing was indeterminate. We cannot put all on hold without more information. It could have meant an occurrence farther into the future than simply this morning."

Danielle opened her mouth to answer back, but Terry stopped her by saying, "It's done now. Can we just get on with whatever it is we do next?"

Apparently the man knew how to handle her, because Danielle sighed. "You be right, _padna_. Now we find dem both." She said something under her breath, and House – while he'd never learned Cajun – recognized enough of the corrupted French to know it wasn't complimentary.

"Our next step," House said, "should be Castalia."

"I have heard from Timus," the supercomputer replied, "and the matter transporter beam is ready."

"Then let's get the hell out of Dodge."

"One t'ing." Danielle stood, facing Terry. "You need to be stayin' here, _cher_."

Now, _that_ didn't sit well. The man's eyes narrowed in anger. "I'm not sitting here on my hands while our friends are in danger."

House watched as the two Tomorrow People took their discussion into mental mode. Maybe discussion was too light a word: from the gestures and expressions between both of them, it was more like full-scale war. He wished he knew what the hell was going on between them, but at the same time he was glad to be out of the crossfire. Usually he considered telepathic conversation in front of the Saps as rude, but for once he was content to let them duke it out.

He did watch, though, and several things made the alarm bells ring in the doctor part of his brain. Particularly with Terry: the man went from pale to red with alarming speed, and there was some swelling visible in his hands as he used them to make his silent point. Once, he had to lean against one of the chairs for support, and a vein in his temple began to throb.

Danielle, meanwhile, seemed to go from angry to attempting to calm Terry almost with the same speed as his complexion changes. She obviously knew there was a medical problem, and was trying to protect him.

Now House knew what had been bothering him about the Tomorrow Person.

Putting together what he was seeing, House surmised it was a heart condition – that would account for the apparent blood pressure changes, which would make his coloring fluctuate; and liquid retention, shown by the swelling. Perhaps some sort of blockage or fibrillation issue…

"Fine!" Terry spat out loud. He stomped toward the jaunting pad, hands balled into fists at his sides. When he got there, he turned back toward Danielle. "I know what I can and can't do, and you're dictating to me isn't going to cut it. If you're determined to play it this way, then go right ahead." Without another word, he jaunted away.

Danielle cursed again under her breath. "I do not believe that language is called for," Tim chided softly.

"Sorry, Tim." She didn't sound it, though.

"I believe you do not give Terry enough credit," the artificial intelligence went on. "You cannot continue to treat him as if he were an invalid."

"But he be one!" she cried.

"Some sort of heart condition, I believe," House put in, his curiosity angling for information.

Danielle blinked in surprise, then chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I keep forgettin' how good you be, _Docteur_ House."

"It wasn't hard to figure out, really." And it hadn't been, once he'd seen the signs.

"It not just be his heart, though, it also be his kidney."

House noticed she used the singular. "He only has one working kidney?" The various conditions that could cause both heart and kidney to malfunction fluttered through his brain.

" _Oui_ , dat be true." She sat back down at the table, folding her hands on its top. "And dat one be workin' at sixty-four percent."

"What sort of treatment has he received?" That level of activity meant that, someday, dialysis could very well be required.

"De best dere is. He spent a lot of time on de Trig, after it happened." She sighed. "Back when we were full-time wit' John, we investigated a possible alien invasion. Terry came in contact wit' a biological agent dat de aliens planned on usin' on de planet. By de time a treatment was made, it were too late: de damage had been done. Dere were transplants of his heart and kidneys, but de disease had done made it impossible for dem to remain viable. Dey be failin' as well, and it be only a matter of time 'fore dey fail completely."

"And other transplants are out of the question?" What sort of disease had it been? Even though he'd known it intellectually, it still scared House just to think there were alien races out there, wanting to take over his world.

It made him think back to Intellex, and their attempts to create a defense against alien incursion by using stolen technology. At the time, he'd been firmly against such a thing, but now he was reconsidering. Yes, they'd also wanted to commit genocide against an entire race – the Tomorrow People themselves. But what if that hadn't come into it?

What if those idiots at Intellex had been right?

But it also opened up another line of thought, one that House had considered before. It was about the Tomorrow People themselves, and the lengths they would go to in order to protect their homeworld and its people, _Homo Sapiens_ and _Homo Superior_ alike. They had all these amazing powers, and were willing to put their own lives on the line for people who most likely would lock them up and use them for experiments if they knew about them. Cameron had once told him that more and more were breaking out all the time, and one day they'd outnumber their non-powered brethren. After all, that was the way of evolution: one race making way for another one that was more advanced. House himself hoped that he'd see that day in his own lifetime.

But there were beings out there who wished nothing but harm to the Earth. How possible would it be for a race that couldn't defend themselves in the ultimate way? Even now, there were people on this planet who wouldn't be put off by just being forced to quit their plans. They'd just regroup, and try again…and again…and again…

For those, death was the only way to stop their plans. But the TP's couldn't kill.

How many Tomorrow People had paid the cost of House's own life with theirs?

Terry could have been one of them. He'd sat across from the man, and hadn't realized the price he'd freely paid in order for Earth to be free. Yes, he was still alive now, but that life would surely be a short one, if what Danielle had said was true.

"No, there can be no more transplants," Tim answered. "Terry's body would not be able to handle the stress of such complicated procedures. And, even if he could, they would fail, just as these had."

House had known – abstractly, of course – that the Tomorrow People had been out there in the universe, doing all they could to preserve the Earth. Hell, he'd known Allison had been one of those, and John himself had been critically injured over the Intellex affair. But, here he'd been face-to-face with yet another truth of it, and he hadn't even realized it.

"Would it be possible to get copies of all the medical records?" The words were out of his mouth before he realized it.

Danielle was looking at him as if he were her last hope. "Sure, _Docteur_. Not be a problem."

"Good. Now, how about this transporter beam-thingy?" He needed to change the subject before things got too mauldin.

Danielle stood. "We mustn't be keepin' Timus waitin'. You be ready, Tim?"

"I am. If you will please step onto the jaunting pad."

House stood next to the Tomorrow Person. He was both nervous and excited; he was about to go into space! The theme song from "Star Trek" played in his head, and he couldn't keep it out. Never in his wildest dreams – okay, his idea of a "wild dream" was purely sexual in nature – had he ever considered he'd ever be doing something like this.

It was odd, though. He was going to be taking this step without Allison. For some reason, he'd always believed that, if he were ever to leave the planet, it would be with her. Although, she was all about protecting him from her life…but House was sure she didn't know that he'd realized it ages ago. And he wasn't about to beg her for a trip offworld! No way, no how! He had his pride.

But then, he was going _because_ of her…which wasn't the same thing at all.

Going by long distance transporter wasn't at all like the short-range jaunting that House had gotten used to. For one thing, it took much longer; while jaunting seemed instantaneous, this route felt as if time were moving through molasses. He was aware of the trip, and was paralyzed to do anything about it.

After what seemed an interminable period, new surroundings began to fade into view. Silvery walls flashed into existence; it resembled nothing so much like the jaunting pad in the Lab, only a lot more sterile. The cozy lighting was replaced by what appeared to be white fluorescent tubes hanging from the ceiling. Gone also was the honeycomb design on the base of the pad, and in its place was a circular pattern that would have made House dizzy if he'd stared at it for too long.

"Welcome to the Galactic Trig," came a warm, vibrant voice.

They were being met by an elderly man, almost completely bald, wearing a long purple robe with tacky silver stuff that looked like curtain ties looping around the neckline and cuffs. He had an air of authority, as if used to being obeyed. Yet, he was smiling, and sincere friendship practically oozed from him.

House was disappointed that his first alien looked just like a normal human being.

"Hello, Danielle," the man went on, holding out his hand to the Tomorrow Person. "It has been too long."

"It sure seem like forever," Danielle agreed, laying her hand gently on the outstretched palm. "Timus, I like to be introducin' you to _Docteur_ Gregory House. _Docteur_ , this be Timus Irnok Mosta, former President of de Galactic Federation and current Ambassador to Earth."

So, that explained the attitude. House took his turn holding the presidential hand.

"I have heard of you, Dr. House," Timus replied, smiling. "Allison speaks very highly of you. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, even though the circumstances are so dire."

House didn't have anything to say about that. He hadn't been aware that Cameron had ever said anything nice about him, let alone having mentioned him to some really powerful member of an alien government. He nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment.

Timus returned the nod. "Please, if you would both come with me." He led the way out of the tiny chamber.

"Have your scientists been able to discover anythin' 'bout the clone yet?" Danielle asked, as they moved along a corridor that was transparent along one side.

House wanted to hear the answer, but he was completely blown away by the view. The stars on the other side of that window were large, far larger than anything he'd ever seen from Earth. A couple of spaceships floated past, looking like nothing even remotely imagined in any science fiction movie he'd ever seen. It finally struck him that he was really and truly on an immense space station out in the depths of space.

He absently wiped his mouth, in case he was drooling in shock.

"I am afraid not," Timus answered. "But they are still working and hopefully will have something soon. In the meantime, I have prepared A-E suits for the both of you, for the second part of your journey."

"A-E suits?" House asked, hoping he didn't sound too stupid.

"Kinda like spacesuits," Danielle explained, "but lighter and adaptable to any environment."

"Also, at Tim's request," Timus went on, "I have had a special cane made for you, Dr. House. I would not want to risk your current one in the destroyed atmosphere of Castalia. I doubt it would survive for very long."

Even as House thanked the ambassador, he made a mental note to thank Tim as well. Seems the supercomputer had thought of everything.

"I have also arranged for you to be matter transported directly to a ship three days out from Castalia itself," Timus continued. "That will cut considerable time from your trip."

"Thanks, Timus. We be 'preciatin' all your help."

"No thanks are needed Danielle. I just hope you are able to find John and Allison and bring them back safely."

So did House, although he didn't echo the sentiment out loud.

 

* * *

 

Chase sighed, not wanting to get out of bed. It had been a long night, and there hadn't been a lot of sleep involved.

He could smell coffee brewing, which meant Adam was still there. It had been interesting yesterday, to say the least. The altercation with Danielle and Terry had led to what, for Adam, had been an intimate discussion of what had been going on since they'd last spoken, and what his cousin _didn't_ say disturbed Chase greatly.

Adam's confession that his line of Tomorrow People was a genetic dead end had backed up Danielle's accusations. But, the idea that his own cousin bore the responsibility of that demise was just too hard to swallow.

Chase could still remember the day Adam had come to him, telling him that he'd somehow gained these wondrous powers. At first, Chase had been incredulous, but seeing his favorite cousin disappearing and reappearing in a different place had totally convinced him. That had started him wishing that he could, somehow, get the same abilities as Adam, so he could join the adventures he and his friends seemed to have.

But, then Adam and his group had turned insular, and went completely secret. Adam had come to Chase, and had made him swear never to tell a soul, that their very lives would be in danger if anyone knew of their existence. And, while he'd never discovered what had happened to make his cousin so frightened, Chase had agreed, and had never spoken of it again.

It had been hard at first. He'd thought having such powers was a miracle, and needed to be used to help others. But then, there'd come the dissolution of his relationship with his family, and it had been all too easy to keep then. He might have even forgotten about it, if it hadn't been for Allison and the events of over six months ago.

He sighed, throwing the covers back. Chase trudged out to the living room, running a hand through his unruly hair in an effort to tame it. The smell of the coffee was actually making his stomach rumble.

Adam was on the couch, staring at the blank television screen. He turned to look at his cousin. "Hey. Donuts in the kitchen."

"Morning," Chase returned, making the trip into the kitchen. The coffee was really calling to him.

The cardboard box sat on the counter, the opened to reveal the selection of donuts within. He was instantly grateful to his cousin, the anticipated sugar boost another relief to the grogginess of the newly-awakened. Coffee and donuts…what a way to the start the day.

He made his first cup, taking it and the pastry box out to the living room. One of the things Chase did know about the Tomorrow People, they ingested far more calories than was usually good for a person. He'd noticed such an appetite in Allison as well; it had been one of the tip-offs to her true nature. He supposed it had something to do with their powers, and could have done the math if he'd been so inclined.

He put the box down on the couch, taking a jelly-filled and promptly wolfing it down. He swigged his coffee, making "hot" noises when it scalded his tongue.

Adam dug out a cruller, pulling it apart along the twists in order to eat it. He demolished it in record time, and helped himself to another.

"Where'd you get the donuts?" Chase asked, after eating his second. There weren't any donut shops within walking distance of his apartment.

"There's this little place around the corner from my house in Sidney," his cousin answered.

Chase did the addition in his head. "Must be a twenty-four hour shop."

Adam nodded as he tucked into his third donut. "Pretty popular with the college crowd."

Conversation petered out. There was nothing like cousinly bonding over a box of sugar-packed pastry, Chase thought. He watched Adam eat, considering what his cousin had shared with him last night. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Chase looked at Adam appraisingly. "What happened change you? I mean, there was this time when you and your friends did exactly what Allison and her group are doing. Why did you stop?"

Adam sighed. He began to pick the donut he held apart, yet he didn't eat it. "Fear, mostly."

"You were afraid of being found out?"

The other man nodded. "Megabyte – you remember him, don't you?"

Chase nodded, an image of the redheaded American teenager coming to mind.

"Well, his dad was ex-military, with some pretty impressive contacts in various governments. He warned us that we'd gotten some unwanted attention after our last little adventure, and we decided to lay low for a while."

"I can understand that. But why lay so low no one could find you?"

"I'm getting to that. A short time after that, John showed up on our doorstep. It was a shock, you know, realizing that the whole Tomorrow People thing had been going on a lot longer than we knew. I'd thought I was the first for so long, and then I find out I'm not…not only that, but to find out that we weren't the only form of Tomorrow People out there. I hadn't even been the one to have come up with the name…John had. But to this day I don't know why I started calling us that independently of the others. It was all too weird.

"Turns out John had found out about us through a contact in the British government. They'd had dealings with the Tomorrow People in the past, and they called him when we stared making noise, so to speak."

"I thought it was all about secrecy!"

"It is. It appeared the only reason the Prime Minister knew about the Tomorrow People was because of a situation that came up when their S.I.S. – the Secret Intelligence Service – tried to develop their own group of spies using telepaths. John and his lot had had to sort that all out, and in the ensuing fracas the Prime Minister at the time had been let in on it. Turns out the American government had also been aware of us, due to an abortive alien invasion back in the late seventies. So, John came to warn us that keeping a low profile would be a good thing, but at the same time he added that we all had responsibilities to the planet and humanity. He told us about the Great Break-Out, as he called it, when Tomorrow People would start developing in the thousands. We'd all need to help when the time came.

"I didn't really take to his attitude. He can really be pompous, and at the time I thought he was an asshole who just wanted to control all of us. I was wrong, but at the time he really pissed me off, and that was the end of it. I decided we'd keep to ourselves, and let our own come to us.

"I was also paranoid, too. What if someone laid a trap for us, when we thought we were helping a potential break-out? Besides, those of us in our little group had teleported themselves to our island when they came into their powers. I was just so certain that would keep on happening. So we waited…but no one else came."

Chase stared at his cousin. "So that's what you meant when you said your people dying out was your fault."

"Sure. I was so certain I was right, I kept thinking we'd be joined with others someday…up until the moment I realized we were doomed. And I was the one who'd doomed us." He put the picked-apart donut back into the box. "I did try, after that, to find others, but there were no more. I failed them without realizing it." Adam sighed. "We aren't supposed to be able to kill, you know. But my ignoring my responsibility killed anyone who needed me. It's just like I murdered them."

Chase reached out and put his hand on Adam's shoulder in comfort. There really wasn't anything to say to that.

They sat in silence for a bit, just enjoying each other's company. Chase hadn't realized how much he'd missed Adam until then, and he was glad that he'd called his cousin. It was as if the bond they'd once shared had never really left them, and he was grateful that Adam had come at his call.

"Hey, cuz…"

Chase looked at him closely. Adam's eyes held a distant look, one that the doctor recognized. "What is it?"

"Got a message, asking for permission to teleport in.":

Well, that could only come from one of the Tomorrow People, so he assented to the request.

It was Terry who appeared in the living room.

The man appeared angry, but was doing his best to hide it. "Thanks for letting me just jaunt in," he said.

"No problem," Chase answered. "What can we do for you?"

"I wanted to know if you were serious about helping Allison."

Chase stared at the man. "Of course I was." He was pissed that his word had been doubted.

Terry held up a hand. "I didn't mean to make you mad. I just had to ask. Because, if you were serious, then what I'm about to ask you could be dangerous, and I want to make absolutely certain you knew it."

He looked the Tomorrow Person up and down, trying to judge the man. There was something off about him, and Chase couldn't put his finger on it. But, he was offering to let him in on whatever plan they had to rescue Allison. "I'm with you."

"Good." Then Terry turned to Adam. "What about you? I know you might not want to expose yourself – " Adam didn't answer out loud, but whatever he said mentally had the other man nodding. "Then we're in this together."

"What are we doing?" Chase was ready for whatever happened next.

"Well, I think you might want to get dressed…" Terry was grinning.

Chase glanced down at the sweatpants he'd worn to bed the night before. "Right." He left the two Tomorrow People and headed into the bedroom.

"Oh, you probably should brush your teeth too, cuz," came Adam's laughing voice floating in behind him.

"Smart ass," Chase muttered, but did as his cousin requested. "Try to be a good host and offer our guest some coffee," he called, digging into his closet.

"Thanks for the offer," Terry answered, "but I don't do caffeine."

Chase wondered if it was a conscious choice, or if it was for a health reason. He himself couldn't come up with any good reason to voluntarily give up caffeine. He changed quickly into jeans and a sweater, sliding comfortable walking shoes onto his feet.

When he went back into the living room, he found Terry and Adam sitting together on the couch. There was apparently a conversation going on, judging from the gestures and expressions that were flitting back and forth between the two. Chase watched them, wishing he could join in on their silent talk. This was something he could never do, and it made him a little sad.

Both of them caught sight of him at the same time, because they turned as one to face him. "What's the plan?" he asked, coming to join them.

Terry stood. "First, let's get you set." He seemed to concentrate, and in seconds one of the belts appeared in his outstretched hand. It resembled the one that the man had once given House: with the silver disc attached. "Put this on."

Chase did was he was bid. "What's it for?"

"Yours is a matter transporter belt. It'll take you wherever I go."

The young doctor thought that was incredibly cool.

"Will you need a belt?" Terry asked Adam.

The other Tomorrow Person shook his head. "Just give me an image of where we're going, and I'll be fine."

"That's amazing. We need help to jaunt that far…"

Terry was silent for a moment, then Adam nodded. "Got it. I've never been to your Lab. Should be interesting."

"Then let's go, shall we? Then I'll explain what's going on."

And, in mere moments, Chase was somewhere else entirely.

The room he was in was large and well-lit, with a comfortable-looking sofa on one side. There were two tables; one on the right, and a matching one on the left, that one surrounded by four chairs. Two corridors ran off this main room, one of the left and the other on the right, with a closed door next to the left-hand opening. A large pulsating _something_ hung from the ceiling, colors passing across four hemispheres that reminded Chase of the security camera housings in some stores. What looked like a plasma television screen hung on the back wall, and was currently turned off.

They'd materialized on a raised platform, with a honeycomb design on the base. Terry was the first one off, followed by Adam, then Chase himself. He wondered where they were; there were no windows or anything to give him a clue as to their surroundings. He wondered vaguely if they were in outer space or somewhere else just as bizarre.

"Terry. Who are your companions?"

Chase stopped. The voice had taken him by surprise, since the three of them were alone in the room. It was male, and warm and friendly, with a British accent. "Where in the hell did that come from?" he demanded.

"That sort of language isn't really necessary," the voice replied, almost sounding like a parent telling off their child.

"That's Tim," Terry introduced. "He's a biotronic artificial intelligence, and that's where his main CPU is housed." He pointed toward the ceiling.

"A computer?" Chase was incredulous.

"Much more than that," Tim answered. "To call me a computer is to call a laptop an abacus." He sounded almost insufferable.

"Tim, this is Adam Newman, and Dr. Robert Chase," the Tomorrow Person introduced.

"Welcome to the Lab, the two of you. I believe Adam and I have spoken before."

"We have," Adam confirmed. "Sorry if I was impolite."

"No apology is needed. And this is Allison's Dr. Chase, I presume?"

"That's right," Terry answered.

"Then we might assume that Adam is the reason he knows about the Tomorrow People?"

"You'd be right again," Adam said. "Robbie's my cousin. He knows all about me."

"And I do assume that this knowledge would have been made known eventually." It wasn't a question.

Terry's mouth curled up slightly. "Sorry, Tim. Danielle and I just found out ourselves, and while we would have normally said something right away, it took a back seat to what happened to John."

"What happened to John?" Adam wanted to know, his voice suddenly sharp.

"Have a seat and I'll explain everything." He ushered them toward the farther table. "Can Tim get you something?"

Chase really needed another cup of coffee, and while he didn't have any clue how Tim was going to get him anything, he put in his request. Adam did the same, while Terry asked for lemonade.

There was an audible hum, and two cups and a glass appeared on the second table.

Chase about jumped out of the chair he'd just barely planted his ass into. "What the – " He cut himself off before the curse word came out, just remembering Tim apparently didn't approve of that sort of language…although why he should care he had no idea.

"That's just one of Tim's tricks," Terry explained, fetching the drinks and returning them to their table.

"I could explain," the artificial intelligence added, "however I feel the technicalities would be incomprehensible. Let us just say I transported the refreshments here."

Chase took a cautious sip of the coffee; it was just the way he liked it. "So," he said to cover his discomfiture, "are we going to get an explanation or what?"

"Of course." Terry took a drink, then set the glass down. "A lot of it you already know, but a few things have happened since just yesterday, and you'll both need to be up to speed."

And so he told them everything. Tim interrupted a couple of times, mostly to add some bit of scientific verification, but on the whole Terry was able to give them the details with a minimum of questions. Chase wondered vaguely if the man had ever been a teacher; he was reminded of a couple of his instructors at university and then medical school in the way the Tomorrow Person managed to impart knowledge and make it understandable.

Of course, he was a little put out at House's involvement. Chase felt an irrational jealously at how deeply his boss was entrenched within the TP "conspiracy," but managed to keep it to himself for the most part. He'd known that House had inside knowledge, but to find out the man was actually out there, with Danielle, searching for Allison and John…while Chase himself sat on his hands and did nothing.

Well, maybe that was about to change. "So, why are we there then?" he asked, after Terry had finished.

"I don't like the idea of Danielle and Dr. House being on their own out there," he answered. "There's this paranoia about involving anyone else, and while I think that's a pretty good idea, that doesn't mean people already in the "know" can't be ready and able to help out at a moments' notice."

"So we're back-up," Adam surmised.

"In a way."

"How are we going to know if Danielle and House are going to need help?" Chase asked.

"Good question, and it's one that's not easy to explain. Let's just say that Danielle and I share an especially deep bond, and I'll know almost immediately if something happens to her."

"So Danielle knows about your plan?"

"Not…exactly, Dr. Chase. Right now, she's blocking me pretty thoroughly."

"And how does that mean you'll know when something is wrong?" Chase pressed. He wanted to help, but this was getting deeper into strangeness.

"Because the blocking will stop."

That sounded almost like rationalization. "Why would she be blocking you in the first place, then?"

Terry colored a little. "That's a little personal, Dr. Chase. I don't think it's necessary that you know."

The light from Tim's housing flashed quickly. Terry glanced up, and something seemed to pass between the A.I. and the TP. Chase glanced at his cousin; Adam shrugged, fiddling with his empty coffee cup. So, he wasn't privy to whatever mental conversation Tim and Terry were having.

Chase liked a mystery almost as much as House, and filed this away for future reference.

"For the time being," the man resumed, "we're going to stay on the Trig, until we're needed. That way we can get wherever we're needed faster than if we stayed on Earth. Is that going to be a problem for either of you?"

Adam shook his head. "I just have to let my friends know. They think I'm just staying with Robbie, and if they try to reach me and I'm offworld…"

"Got it." Terry turned to Chase. "What about you? You okay with this?"

"I'll just call the hospital and say I'm taking vacation. It's not like I don't have a lot to burn." Besides, Chase didn't care how long he would be gone. As long as Allison was saved, it honestly didn't matter to him.

And if he could somehow save her, and cut House out of the rescue, so much the better.

 

* * *

 

John awoke slowly, his head so heavy he knew he'd never be able to lift it.

He kept his eyes closed, out of sheer self-preservation. He wanted nothing more than to sink back into unconsciousness, but forced himself against that wish. What had happened to him?

The last thing he remembered was being in his bedroom, and being under attack by… _something_. He'd been fooled into thinking that Allison was calling out to him, but it had been a trap.

Where was he now? The bed he was lying on was hard; he could feel the bands holding up the thin mattress cutting into several places along his aching body. There was a weight lying across his chest, but it wasn't terribly uncomfortable. Not as bad as the pain in his head.

His brain felt splintered. The attack he'd come under could have done damage, but he wouldn't know until he'd tried to use his powers.

John called out to Tim, but got no answer; the effort only made his head throb abominably. He considered that he could be under the effects of a dampening field; whoever had taken him would have known about his special abilities. So that wasn't really a test, was it?

Well, there was nothing for it; he had to get a look at his surroundings. John carefully pried his eyes open, instantly regretting it as pale light stabbed them like needles. He managed to keep them open, letting them become accustomed to it, and the pain gradually faded until he could make out the room he was in.

A metal ceiling looked down at him. He turned his head, and could make out that the walls were also metal, as were the sparse furnishings. A single round porthole looked out onto interstellar space. So, he was either on a space ship or station; it was difficult to say which, since the stars were moving slowly.

John managed to lift his head, to look down at the weight that was keeping him from getting up. He could just make out a mass of brown hair; at first, his imagination made him think it was Elena, but the hair was straight, not curly like hers was. Also, those sorts of thoughts were the stuff of fantasy…and pleasant ones, not filled with such agony.

John reached out, and gently shook the shoulder he found. The head snapped upward, tired eyes meeting his own.

His heart jumped with joy. It was Allison.

She smiled weakly, lifting herself off him. "Sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

The elder Tomorrow Person returned the smile. "That's all right. I'm just glad to see you." He struggled to sit up.

Allison helped him. "I wish I could say the same. It's my fault you're here, John."

He put his back against the cold metal wall. He glanced down at himself; he was wearing a white body suit, with a blue poncho-like garment over the top. His feet were bare, which would explain why they were freezing. "Where is "here," exactly?"

She joined him against the wall. "We're on board the Magestrin world-ship, apparently."

"I've heard of them."

"You'll wish you hadn't." Allison's voice sounded dead.

He looked at her closely. She looked exhausted; dark circles blackened her eyes, and her cheeks were far too pale. Her hair was a lank mess, straggling over her shoulders in matted tangles. She was wearing the same white body suit, but her poncho was red. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

She actually flinched at his tone. "It…I'll explain. And you're not going to like it."

Allison did explain, and as her story went on John grew more and more alarmed. The Magestrin were using slaves to power their ship? And they were the remains of a race long thought dead? As far as he knew, the Galactic Federation didn't know anything about what was going on; if they had, the Magestrin wouldn't have been allowed to keep the Castalii prisoner.

She paused in her story, as if she didn't want to continue. "Is that why they grabbed you?" he asked. "To help with working this ship?"

Allison nodded weakly. "When I was first hooked into the engine, I…screamed. It turns out that scream pointed them toward you."

That made sense of the strong telepathic sending he'd received. She must have used the power of the ship to strengthen the signal. "They were able to trace it."

"The Castalii were, yes. They…they're afraid, John. So afraid a lot of them are willing to do whatever the Magestrin want, no matter what it is. They're dying. And the Magestrin need replacements."

"And that's us."

"Yes."

"But how do they use our powers to run this ship?"

By way of reply, Allison leaned forward, moving her hair away from her neck.

John's hand went instantly to the back of his own neck. There was a bandage there, and he knew immediately what it covered: a socket that matched the one that protruded from the base of Allison's skull.

The elder Tomorrow Person was outraged. How dare these Magestrin enslave an entire race! They'd made impositions on both himself and Allison, simply because of their need to replace those who'd died or had become unable to work any longer.

Well, he wasn't about to let them get away with it!

"Right." He got unsteadily to his feet, ignoring the pain in his head. "Let's go sort this out, shall we?" He held his hand out to Allison.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, as if he'd gone insane. Yet she took his hand and let him raise her up. "Just what do you intend to do?"

"I think the first order of business is to see the Magestrin, don't you?"

Allison shook her head, a slight smile tugging her mouth upward. "And how do you propose to do that?"

He returned her smile. "We'll start with the Castalii, then work our way up. Shall we go?"

The young woman muttered something under her breath. John thought he caught the words, "cheeky" and "bastard" as she led him to the airlock-like door.

There were four Castalii just outside.

One – a man – was blue, which according to John's research meant he was a telepath; another was brown, which was a translator; a red woman who had to be a telekinetic; and another woman who was a healer, judging from the green in her hair and eyes. John was suddenly glad he'd had Tim do more research on the Castalii, and that he'd had a little time to assimilate most of it.

They were wearing the same costumes as himself and Allison were, and John realized they were also a sort of uniform, that denoted what that person's power – and by extension, responsibility – was on the world-ship. If the red Allison wore was any proof, then both himself and Dr. House had surmised correctly, and she'd been taken because of her telekinetic abilities. His own blue rated him as a telepath. He wondered vaguely why the Magestrin had decided to already mark the "marked" Castalii.

Allison performed the introductions. The telepath was Cardesh, who was apparently an elder of the Castalii; the telekinetic was Marqa, and judging from his companion's warm response, she was also a friend; Shardan was the translator; and the healer was named Salera, and was also Cardesh's wife. "If you'll let Shardan, he can make it so you can understand their language," she finished.

John knelt in front of the diminutive alien. Cool fingers caressed his forehead, but then there was a sudden stab of pain like lightning. He would have fallen backward, if not for Allison's support. The agony in his head re-ignited, and a moan forced its way past his clenched jaws.

Then another touch made the skin of his face tingle, and the pain faded practically to nothing. He opened his eyes, to meet the gaze of the green healer, Salera. She smiled at him sadly. "Does that feel better?"

"Much, thank you." He stood, Allison's hand on his elbow. John felt guilty accepting her aid, especially when she looked so exhausted. "Has Allison explained to you who we are?"

The man, Cardesh, looked terrified. "She has said that you are Federation citizens…"

"Do not over-generalize," Marqa snapped. She looked up at John, her red eyes full of glee. "Allison has kindly informed us that the two of you are personal friends of a former president of the Galactic Federation, and that you, yourself, are a high-ranking official of the Federation itself."

All right, Allison appeared to have laid it on a little thick, but that was fine. As long as it got him what he wanted… "I want to see whoever's in charge around here."

"That would be me, and the other elders," Cardesh answered, pulling himself a little more upright.

"I highly doubt any of you are truly in charge," John rapped. "I mean I would like to speak to the Magestrin in command of this vessel."

The elder went even whiter than John would have thought possible. "We do not speak to them…they speak to us!"

"Then it's about time that changed. How do the Magestrin contact you?"

Marqa was trying to hide a laugh, judging by the odd snorting sound that came from the tiny woman. Salera also looked amused, but sad at the same time. Shardan was appalled, as was Cardesh, but John didn't care. He needed to get to the bottom of things, and if he had to bully the "natives," then so be it.

He felt a cold hand slip into his. Allison was there, giving her support. John wished his telepathy were working, because he would have thanked her. It surprised him a little that she hadn't tried to throw her own weight around in an effort to get released, but decided he'd ask her about it later.

John didn't like the way she looked, not at all. Allison was ill, that much was certain. What had being plugged into this ship done to her? Had she been injured in some way? The machinery had obviously been devised with the Castalii in mind. What had happened when a Tomorrow Person brain had been forced to use that same equipment?

Would it also happen to him?

He didn't want to admit that the idea frightened him. John had been a functioning Tomorrow Person since he'd been fifteen. Over two-thirds of his life had been spent having these wonderful gifts, and although there had been times when he'd been unable to use them – his severe injury some six months ago was an example – for the most part he'd been able to access them with ease. To suddenly have them taken away, never to have them again…he'd seen it happen before, and it was his greatest fear. He would have happily lost a limb if it meant he'd have his powers.

The elder didn't get a chance to answer his question.

A strange, gonging noise echoed down the corridor.

Allison jumped, going even paler. Her hand clenched around his, and John had to bite back a hiss at the sudden pressure.

Cardesh looked relieved. "It is time to work. You must come with us."

"I'm not going anywhere," John asserted. "I refuse to have anything to do with this."

"John," Allison said, her voice very thin. "We don't have a choice."

He looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"If we don't go, everyone will be punished through the implants."

Ah, so that was how they'd made Allison do their work. By threatening the Castalii, the Magestrin could force the TP to do whatever they wanted, including voluntarily plugging themselves into the world-ship.

It must have been terrible, judging from Allison's fear. She edged closer, slipping her arm around his. It bothered him to see her like this. While the young woman cared about others – which was what made her a wonderful doctor – she'd never really been a touchy sort of person. To have her leaning against him, clutching at his arm…it was disturbing, to say the least.

Yet, she was prepared to face that fear, if it meant the Castalii wouldn't be hurt. And that meant he would have to be the same.

Plus, he considered as he was led down the hallway, it would give him a chance to get a look at the actual mechanisms that ran this vessel. With his mind hooked directly into the ship, he could conceivably have access to most everything.

Maybe it was worth the risk. This time.

They came up to a large antechamber, with a set of large doors on the far wall. Allison let go then, and, with Marqa, she went through those doors. She'd told him that she was being hooked into the main engines, so he had to assume that that would be the engine room itself. She turned to look at him as she entered, holding up a hand in farewell.

"Come with me," Cardesh requested, leading John past those door and to a nondescript pair of sliding doors.

As John surmised, they opened up into a lift. The elder, John, and several other blue Castalii stepped inside, and with a slight jerk it began to ascend.

The closer they got to their destination, the harder John's heart pounded. Even the anticipation of what was about to occur was terrible. This was an abomination, what the Magestrin were doing to these people, and now to Allison and himself.

It would have to be stopped.

The lift doors opened, revealing what looked to John nothing so much as some sort of computer room. Banks of equipment took up three walls, while on the fourth, where the main controls should have been, stood ten couch-like devices. Blues were leaving these cabinets, being helped by several healer-greens. To a being, they looked exhausted,

Cardesh motioned to them. "You must take your place within the interface."

John eyed the cabinet. It was almost too small for him, made for a Castalii stature and not a human's. A prong stuck up out of the back of the device; a green had just finished wiping it down with a damp cloth. A disinfectant, perhaps?

He hoped so. He'd hate to get an infection…

John removed the bandage that covered the port in the back of his skull. As his fingers touched it, he shivered uncontrollably. This was a nightmare, one that every Tomorrow Person had at some point: the notion of their powers being used by unscrupulous individuals. He'd fought against this sort of abuse, and he would do so once more.

It took some positioning before the port was lined up with the prong at the back of the cabinet. He could actually feel the metal scraping together, and it made him shiver again, in sheer horror.

Taking a deep breath, John leaned backward.

And he realized just why Allison had been so terrified.

 

* * *

 

House learned several interesting things during the three-day trip to Castalia.

The first was that these A-E suits – he kept wanting to call them A & E suits, simply because it had the same initials as the cable network – were, in fact, quite comfortable. When he'd first realized he'd have to be wearing some sort of space suit, House had flashed back to the things worn by terrestrial astronauts. In fact, they didn't really resemble space suits at all, more like a set of pajamas made from a strange fabric that pretty much resisted everything thrown at it, including the ketchup-like condiment he'd purposely dripped all over it during dinner their first night in. There was a backpack where most of the controls were kept, and a built-in matter transporter in a small box at his waist. Tubes ran from the backpack to various areas of the suit, and there were some flexible gloves, heavy boots, and a helmet that looked like something he'd wear riding his motorcycle. He'd put the complete outfit on in the privacy of his tiny cabin, modeling in front of the mirror that had been hung on the back of the door, and pronounced the whole thing silly. At least he didn't have to wear it all when on board; he could leave the accoutrements off until they reached their destination.

The cane was quite nice, though. It was made out of some lightweight metal, and actually weighed less than his wooden one, left back on the Trig. The grip was padded, and the rubberized foot was practically silent on the deck. It was also a little thinner, and much easier to twirl nonchalantly. He hoped he'd be able to take it home with him.

The second thing was connected with the A-E suit – it had a translator built into it, and the best thing was it also translated whatever Danielle said into reasonably understandable English. House had to admit, sometimes the _Cadien_ woman's accent gave him a headache, but it sounded really weird to hear her voice being so _normal_. He'd finally asked her about it; Danielle had shrugged, and said she'd simply started speaking in her native language, and that was what the translator was picking up on.

The third thing he learned, upon beaming aboard the spaceship, was that their pilot resembled the Cowardly Lion from the original "Wizard of Oz" film – not that he was about to admit that he'd ever watched it, let alone catching it every time it came on TV. The being introduced himself as Glip, and went on bragging about what a great pilot he was. House was bitterly disappointed. Why couldn't any of the aliens he'd met in the last couple of days look more like the Sharrion? Now, they'd been impressive. The walking starfish on the Trig…that had been just plain lame…

But what he really learned, above anything else, was just how beautiful the stars were.

House had never considered himself the stargazing type. After all, living in a city meant that light pollution made it practically impossible to see any but the brightest stars.

But out there, in interstellar space…it was as if they were calling to him, welcoming him as if he were a long-lost brother finally coming home. Hour after hour, he'd sit in his cabin, in his chair with his bad leg propped up on the bunk just across, and look out at the universe around him.

It was an amazing sight.

House only knew what any ordinary person knew about astronomy – practically nothing. And somehow he doubted any such knowledge would have added to his enjoyment. Little had he realized just how many colors and varieties of stars there actually _were_. And they didn't sparkle at all; even he knew that it was Earth's atmosphere that caused the sparkling effect. But the lack of it only made them even more spectacular.

On the second day of their flight, they passed a solar system that had two suns: one of them yellow, like House's own; the other was smaller, and green. They were partially hidden behind a band of orbiting rocks, one of which looked to be as large as Earth's moon. While he couldn't make out any other planets, they were too far away for that, House somehow knew they were there. He wondered if there were people there; another race that lived, loved, and died looking up at those twin suns every day.

It made him think of Allison. She'd been among these self-same stars so many times, yet in the end she'd chosen to stay on Earth, knowing that – chances were – she'd never walk among them again. She'd put aside her heritage and lived normally, ruthlessly pushing aside her true self in order to fit alongside the Saps.

How could she have done it?

House did know the story…at least, the story she chose to tell. How much more was there, that she simply didn't share? Did John know the entire tale?

Or was there really nothing more than that?

He seriously doubted it. But Allison wasn't telling, and he knew that, while his curiosity was itching to know, he'd never pry into her personal reasons. He couldn't say that about a lot of people, but then she'd chosen to trust him with her secret. And that trust meant more to him than he'd ever admit.

It was up to them to find her.

But he was finding it very hard to trust Danielle, especially when he'd finally found out just how she did her divining.

He'd had to leave the galley on that second night, after she'd pulled out that old, worn Tarot deck. That was just ridiculous! How could anyone take that sort of superstition seriously?

Apparently John did, and Tim, Allison, and Terry…and Danielle herself. He'd thought better of the elder Tomorrow Person, and he knew for a fact that Allison was, indeed, a rational being…even though she did let her emotions get in the way at times. But Tim…now, that shocked him. The biotronic supercomputer was the ultimate logical being, and House had a hard time reconciling that idea with the fact that he'd been absolutely devastated when he hadn't taken Danielle's warning about John seriously. That meant that Tim, too, believed what Danielle was doing was real. And that bothered House more than he would have thought possible. He considered Tim a friend, and how could a friend of his believe in that nonsense?

And here he was, traveling with Danielle, having to rely on her to help in getting Allison back. How could he do that now? Yet, he was stuck with his companion. There was nothing he could do about it now, so far from Earth. House had chosen his solitary lifestyle, only letting in certain people, but now more than ever did he feel so totally alone. He'd counted on John, but he couldn't do that now. Now he was stuck with Danielle.

Complication, indeed.

"Doctor House?"

He turned from his perusal of space at the soft calling of his name. Danielle stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. She wore her A-E suit as if it were just another set of clothing. He wasn't at all used to this normal-sounding Danielle, and it made him even more uneasy.

"What?" he asked curtly, purposely turning his gaze back to the window. While he might have been stuck with her, it didn't mean he had to socialize.

"We're going to be in orbit of Castalia in about an hour," she answered.

"I'll be ready." Besides, he wanted to be on the ship's control deck, so he could get the best view. It meant he'd have to put up with Glip's bragging, but it would be worth it…in a way.

"I think we need to talk."

"About what? The weather? The interest rate on the Galactic Exchange?" House had no idea if there was such a thing, but didn't much care.

"Just what is your problem?" She sounded pissed off. Good.

He looked at her. "First off, it's this whole translation thing. Stop sounding like a bitchy socialite and I might consider it your good deed for the day."

Her green eyes went wide. Apparently that had been the last thing she'd been expecting. "Dis be better den?" she asked, resting her fist on her cocked hip.

"Much."

"Glad I be of service."

"Humph." He went back to stargazing.

"Dat not be your only problem den." Now she was sounding exasperated.

"Got lots of problems, including being a cripple. Which one are you interested in?" He absently popped a Vicodin, aware that he'd have to start rationing if he wanted them to last.

"De one dat be tellin' me why de attitude."

"Hasn't Cameron told you? I'm like this all the time."

"She done tol' me you coul' be a bastard, yes."

That ending "yes" didn't sound like it belonged with the rest of her sentence, so House surmised the translator was still working, and changing the natural _Cadien_ terms that she normally used into English. "Then, you should've expected it. Now, go away and leave me alone." He didn't really want to be alone, but he didn't want to be with her, either. Lesser of two evils, as far as he was concerned.

"We be needin' to discuss what we be doin' once we reach Castalia."

Okay, she wasn't going to leave. "We get there, go down to the surface, and look for clues. Not exactly brain surgery – and I should know, having performed it once or twice."

"Damnit, Greg! Be serious."

He looked at her. Her pale face was flushed, and she was breathing slightly faster than normal. "I am serious," he answered quietly, "and I didn't give you permission to call me by my given name, so I suggest you refrain until I do. Which will be when hell freezes over, so don't hold your breath." He was angry, but he didn't know what at: her calling him Greg, or her refusal to take the hint and leave him in peace.

Danielle stood straight. "I 'pologize, Dr. House." Her tone was curt, as if she really didn't mean it.

He suspected that was exactly the case. He let it slide, because she wasn't about to give him any more.

"Look," she went on, "I be gettin' some weird vibes, and I can' pinpoint what dey be from. We could be walkin' inta somethin' and we won't be havin' a clue til we actually walk inta it. We need to be prepared, is all I be sayin'."

"Thanks for the warning," House answered, "but I think I already knew this was going to be dangerous." He could actually trust her feelings on this; he'd been having the same ones the closer they'd gotten to Castalia, and he didn't need any mystical mumbo-jumbo to tell him they could be heading into a trap.

"Fine." She threw up her hands in disgust. "I be leavin' you be, den. I be on de control deck when you be ready." True to her word, she walked away, leaving him to his own thoughts.

House sighed. This was just going to be lovely. He was going to have to put his safety into the hands of a Tarot card reading loony. Just dandy…

He got up, and gathered his things together. Out of habit, he put his bottle of pills into a pocket of his A-E suit, although how he was going to be able to take them, with the helmet on, was beyond him. Having it there just made him feel better, really.

The control deck was at the end of the hallway; the ship itself was aligned on this corridor, with the engine room at the rear. House knew the storage and cargo areas were below his feet as he stumped forward, having been given the tour by a proud Glip just after they'd boarded. It was pretty much as House would have imagined a space ship interior would look like, if he'd been so inclined to imagine such a thing: all metal bulkheads and decking, with sliding doors on either wall which led to rooms and the hideously puny lavatory.

There was another sliding door at the front of the ship, and it opened at House's approach. The control deck was sufficiently high-tech to impress him, but it was the large transparent port before him that really drew his attention. In it, a large gas planet was gliding past, rings encircling it at a rather jaunty angle, the vibrant yellows and reds of the atmosphere nearly dazzling House with their stormy beauty.

Directly in front of them was the system's sun; it was an orangey-yellow, glowing with an almost malevolent tone. House was well aware of how Castalia had died: it had been flares from this very star. "Any risk of there being any more flares while we're down there?" he asked, trying hard not to sound concerned.

Glip checked some of the instruments in the pilot's area. "No," he reported. "In fact, for a star with such a history of bad behavior, it's relatively calm."

House eyed it warily. He wasn't one who usually anthropomorphized anything, but if that sun had been one of his residents, he would have been expecting an uproar at any moment.

In mere moments, their destination became visible. Castalia was brown and gray, with nothing to recommend it to any other space travelers. Quite frankly, it looked dead, and it saddened House a little that an entire people had literally gone up in flames just because the star that had given them life had arbitrarily decided to take it away.

The planet had two moons: one looked like a charcoal briquette; the other one was shaped like a potato and was a strange greenish color. Both had obviously suffered from the solar flares as well: the green moon had strange, dark scoring along its surface; and House doubted the other one had originally resembled something he'd light to cook a steak.

"Any ideas where we should put down?" Danielle was back to sounding snooty, probably for their pilot's benefit.

Once again Glip referred to his instruments. "There are some pretty extensive ruins on what's left of the main continent. I can transport you there."

"And what are you going to be doing while we're having fun?" House asked. The sudden thought of being stranded down there disturbed him,

"I'll wait to hear from you," the alien answered. "And I'll bring you up when you're ready."

"Right." Danielle slid the suit's helmet over her red hair, then checked the seal at her wrists where her gloves met the rest of the outfit.

House did the same, running the checks that he'd been taught on the Trig. Everything seemed sealed up tightly, but he made doubly sure since his life depended on it all being hooked up correctly.

"Can you hear me?" came Danielle's voice in his ear. It sounded a little tinny, but otherwise it was as if she was standing just behind his right shoulder.

"Nope, not a thing," he answered glibly.

"Good." Apparently she was going to ignore his remark. "Let's be getting' dis show on de road."

House followed her to the matter transmitter pad in the corner of the room. He clasped his cane tightly, the unknown making him somewhat jumpy.

The control deck faded out around him, and was replaced by a dead landscape.

It was terrible to see.

The skeletal remains of buildings thrust upward into the gray air. Wind whipped up the dirt, making small dust-devils that scoured the walkways clean in spots. Husks of what must have been trees lay in forlorn blockades across the street.

In this environment, House could easily imagine the ghosts that would be walking this world…even though he didn't believe in them. Castalia was a planet of death, and it had been a death that the doctor would have found impossible to fight against.

Together the two of them walked the streets of this city. Neither one spoke, because no words would ever express what the other was feeling. House named this place Melancholy, because that was the closest he could come to describe his surroundings.

Finally, though, he had to speak. "We're not finding anything here that'll help Allison or John."

"We be goin' 'bout dis de wrong way." Danielle's answer was almost too quiet to make out. "We need to be findin' a central control buildin', like a town hall or somethin'."

House pointed toward the left with his cane. "The buildings seem to be bigger that way."

"An' we all know, gove'ments love ostentation." She set out the way he'd indicated.

The Tomorrow Person had taken five steps before she came to an abrupt halt. House had actually passed her before realizing she wasn't moving anymore. "What is it?"

"Don' be knowin'," she answered faintly. "Getting' a feelin' is all…"

Oh, for Gods' sake… "Let's keep moving until you figure out what it is."

Another three steps, and Danielle was stopping once more. House looked at her; her eyes had rolled back into her head, and her body seemed to have stiffened. He immediately diagnosed seizure, then went to grab her before she fell.

But Danielle didn't fall. Instead, she held out her hand, and in it appeared her Tarot cards.

This was just too idiotic for House to take. He put his own hand out, to grab the deck away from her.

But Danielle wasn't letting go. She cupped the deck in both hands, even as her eyes were returning to normal. She turned the top card over, revealing a faded – yet still recognizable – design.

Death.

The hairs on the back of House's neck actually stood up, although he firmly told himself that he didn't believe in such nonsense. "What the hell are you playing at?" he rasped, his throat suddenly dry.

"Not be playin'," she whispered. "But de Death card don' mean one of us gonna to be dyin'. Means dere be a misconception dat gonna be changin' into understandin'. Somethin' goin' on here dat we t'ink we know, but we really don' be knowin' shit 'bout it." Without any warning, the deck vanished. "Been hearin' from Allison dat you be lovin' a good mystery. Seems we be 'bout to find one."

House didn't answer. Instead, he started walking again, toward the buildings he'd pointed out. While he didn't trust Danielle's divination abilities, the appearance of that one card had spooked him. And the dead planet around him wasn't helping his nerves one bit.

He had to admit though, she was right about one thing: something was going on, and they weren't finding any clues this way.

He was about to tell her that very thing, when a noise penetrated his helmet. It sounded almost like a small rockslide.

Danielle must have heard it too, because she stopped right alongside him. Through the visor of her helmet, he could see she was frightened. "We not be alone here, Dr. House."

He was getting that distinct impression, as well, although he couldn't have said what was causing him to feel that way. "Question is, were we followed here, or were they here first?"

"Must'a been here b'fore us. We'd'a seen another ship on our scanners if dey been followin'."

There was yet another sound of rocks knocking together, this one louder than the first. House glanced around, trying to pinpoint the source. All that was around them were ruined structures. "Anyone could be hiding close by." His heart was racing, but he wasn't about to admit he was scared.

Danielle suddenly gasped, her gloved hands snapping up to clutch her helmet as if she were trying to yank it off. "No," she moaned, sinking to her knees.

House was beside her, pulling her hands down in an effort to keep her from removing the helmet. "Calm down," he ordered. "You can't take it off. Can you hear me?"

The Tomorrow Person didn't answer. Her face was scrunched up in pain, and she moaned again, the sound echoing through the communications link like a displaced spirit.

There was no way House could diagnose what was wrong with Danielle while they were still closed off to each other. He raised his wrist, where the radio that would signal the ship was located. Time to make a hasty retreat…

That was when he felt a sudden pressure in his mind. It reminded him of John's request for entrance into his mind, only more demanding. Whoever was pushing him, wasn't asking for permission.

House felt the pressure building, until his vision started going white. This was worse than a migraine, and he desperately wanted to swallow half a dozen Vicodin right there and now.

But he couldn't without removing his own helmet.

The sound of movement came again, penetrating House's burning thoughts. He raised his head with difficulty.

Just before he lost consciousness, he caught a glimpse of several figures coming toward them…

 

* * *

 

Cameron slowly came awake. To say that her head was aching would have been an immense understatement.

The "shifts" were getting worse. She'd only had three, but each time she was disconnected from the world-ship's engine her periods of consciousness were shorter and shorter. This time, she didn't even remember getting back to her cabin – yet that was obviously where she was, even though she didn't have to open her eyes to know it. The hard cot was becoming as familiar to her as her own bed in her apartment, and that was something she definitely didn't want to happen.

She peeled her eyes open carefully. Cameron moaned as the soft light pierced her corneas, adding to the pain in her skull. Her stomach roiled in response, and she was barely able to lean over the edge of the cot before she lost whatever she'd last eaten.

Cameron didn't have the strength to turn back over, so she lay there, staring at the remains of her stomach contents, breathing so heavily it sounded like a bellows in her ringing ears.

Gentle hands took ahold of her shoulders, easing her back onto the threadbare pillow. Cameron found herself looking up into the concerned green eyes of Salera the healer. "Rest easy," the woman murmured, her hand stroking Cameron's sweating forehead. In its wake, the pain seemed to calm a bit.

She wanted to thank her, but Cameron's tongue felt swollen and sore. She wondered vaguely if she'd bitten it. She was thirsty beyond all reckoning.

As if reading her mind, Salera leaned forward, holding a cup of water up to Cameron's parched lips. She gulped it greedily, not caring if it made her even sicker to her stomach.

Everything seemed to be settling though, and Cameron was grateful she didn't have to vomit once more. She finally managed to thank the healer, her voice thready and weak.

"You are welcome, Allison. I am only sad that I cannot help you further." She knelt on the floor, in order to clean up the mess Cameron had made.

"It's fine," Cameron answered. "It's not your fault."

Salera smiled sadly at her. "But it is, in a way. If my people had only fought against the Magestrin…"

"It's not too late." If she could convince the woman that rebellion was the only answer…

"Yes, it is. We have been slaves too long. We know of no other way." She sighed. "Let me go, your companion is waiting outside. He is most anxious of your condition."

Cameron nodded, worried about John. Had he reacted as badly to being plugged into the ship as she had?

Salera smiled at her again. She opened the door to leave, only to let in the sounds of an argument outside.

" – be serious!" John's voice demanded.

"I am afraid we are." Cardesh's answering tone was as full of sadness as his wife's eyes had been.

"Even though you see what this is doing to Allison?"

"I am sorry for that –" His voice cut off.

"She is awake," Salera said into the sudden silence.

"Thank you, Salera." John pushed past the healer, coming into the room. He purposely shut the door behind him.

He came over, and Cameron scooted over to make room for him to sit beside her on the cot. She looked at him closely, the doctor in her coming to the fore.

John looked tired, dark circles making his eyes look like hollow pits. There seemed to be a little trace of blood in one nostril, which could only have come from a nosebleed. She raised a hand to brush it lightly across his forehead; he was clammy with cold sweat.

"Don't worry about me," he murmured, taking the raised hand in his own. "How are you feeling?"

"Been better," she answered.

"I can imagine." He squeezed her fingers. "Now I see why you were so scared to go back into the machine."

Cameron shivered involuntarily. "I'm sorry I got you into this." Tears prickled her eyes at the thought that she'd condemned him to this slavery.

"No need to apologize. How could you have known?"

"But still…"

"We'll get out of this." He sounded so sure of himself Cameron's own spirits were lifted.

"Do you have a plan?"

"Those idiots – " he motioned toward the doorway " – won't help, they're too afraid. We'll have to come up with something on our own. Or else, wait for rescue, of course. I prefer not to do that, though. It's embarrassing."

She snorted. "Do you mean by Danielle? I suppose you found out what happened from her."

"Actually, no. Your Dr. House phoned Tim to tell him that you'd died. They'd made it look like a automobile accident, by the way."

Cameron's heart stirred at that news. "Does he know I'm not dead?"

"Yes. In fact, he's been most helpful in our attempts to find you." John didn't appear to want to admit it.

It was all she could do not to jump out of bed and dance with joy. House knew she was still alive, and he'd been helping to look for her! Her chest warmed at the knowledge that he was out there, somewhere, not giving up on her.

He was coming to her rescue!

Cameron recalled that silly vision, of House appearing in battered armor, like some poor itinerate knight, using his cane as his weapon. This time she didn't laugh; she smiled warmly, the image suddenly her comfort in this hell.

"Allison?" John looked puzzled at her expression.

She wiped the smile off her face, even as she was tucking that picture away in her heart of hearts. "What about my family?" she asked.

The elder TP looked away. "We…felt it best that they not know you were still alive. After all, we didn't have any proof that we all weren't being watched, and we felt that everyone had to be reacting as if you truly were…gone. It was safest, for you and for them."

Cameron nodded slightly, biting her lip. He was right, of course, but it still hurt that her own family thought she was dead. She hoped they were all right. "Who all knows the truth?"

"Myself, Dr. House, Danielle, Terry, and Tim of course. In fact, I got my arse chewed out quite thoroughly by Danielle. She went to meet you for lunch and was told you were dead. It wasn't pretty."

"I can imagine." Danielle had a temper, and wasn't afraid to use it.

"I think she blamed herself because she didn't see it happen beforehand."

Cameron knew how strongly Danielle believed in her divination powers, even though they came and went pretty much of their own accord. "But she should know by know she can't see everything."

"Try reminding her of that. And I'm sure she's feeling guilty about my own abduction as well. She had a non-specific divination about me the night before."

Cameron flinched. She was already feeling guilty about getting John into this mess; she could sympathize with that.

"You all right?" he asked, looking at her closely.

"I will be." She struggled to sit up, and had to have John help her make it all the way. "Thanks," she gasped, trying to catch her breath at the exertion. The thundering of the pulse in her ears was making her head swim.

"You're welcome. Are you sure it's wise to be up, though?"

"Not really. Just never been one to lay about when there's work to be done. I assume you have some sort of plan?"

John smiled coldly. "Well, since the Castalii won't help us contact the Magestrin, I thought perhaps I might try to find my own way to do so."

"Sounds good. Let's try it."

He looked at her worriedly. "Perhaps it would be best if you rested – "

"I'm not staying here while you go off exploring. Besides, I might be as weak as a kitten, but I can still watch your back."

It took every bit of stubbornness she possessed to get Cameron onto her feet. Her legs were weak, yet she willed them to keep her upright. It wasn't that she didn't want John to know how badly she was feeling; she just didn't want to be left alone. Plus she felt she just had to be doing _something_ to get them out of this…

John let her lean against him a little as they left her cabin. The corridor beyond was empty, for which Cameron was grateful. She didn't want anyone warning the Magestrin that they were coming.

This whole situation smacked of Stockholm Syndrome to her. The Castalii had been slaves for so long they were actually used to the idea, and were sympathizing with the Magestrin. They were willing to help them, in any way, up to and including kidnapping members of other races at their masters' request. It was as if the Castalii wanted to keep the world-ship running, and were willing to do anything to achieve it. Were they refusing to help John and herself out of fear, or was it because they _wanted_ to obey the Magestrin?

That they were willing for the cycle of abuse to continue spoke volumes to Cameron. She doubted that it mattered that this was slowly killing her, and would do the same to John. While there were a few willing to speak against what was going on – like Marqa and Salera – even they, in the end, weren't willing to do anything about it. The Magestrin had the Castalii right where they wanted them: slaves willing to follow their master's word no matter where that word led.

If she wasn't hurting so badly, she might have felt more sorry for them than she actually did.

They set off in the opposite direction from their work areas. John kept his hand on her elbow, and Cameron was grateful for the support. The deck was cold against her feet as they moved onward, past a couple more cross-corridors, continuing away from the slave quarters.

She could easily believe the ship was the size of a small moon. The corridor seemed endless, especially when the doors in the walls ended, leaving straight, blank hallway. It was eerily silent, only the engine thrum under her soles giving away the fact that this place was traveling through space.

Cameron wondered how House would find them. Would the Magestrin give something away – highly doubtful, given that they'd had the Castalii for such a long time – or if something they would do would bring attention to themselves. But what if he couldn't find them? How long could Cameron stay alive, let alone sane? Would her mind be able to stand the strain of being plugged into the world-ship's engines, her telekinetic powers used to keep them moving through interstellar space? Or would her body give out first, dying in that cramped cabinet as her mind became trapped within the vessels' workings forever?

They had to find some way to escape, or to send out a signal, before it was too late.

If it wasn't already.

What if there was already serious damage done to her brain? She knew the implant was suppressing her abilities, except for her telekinesis – which she powerless to use in any other way than running the engines. If it could be removed, would she ever be the same again?

Maybe it would be enough that they save the Castalii. The Federation could get them the help they'd need to cope outside this place.

Cameron was brought out of her reverie when she realized that John had stopped walking. She blinked, and a set of double doors swam out of the blurriness of her vision.

They resembled elevator doors, and were the same silver as the walls. There was a rectangle of darker material – it looked like plastic – inset next to them.

"Let's see if we can get these open," John said briskly. He traced the outline of the door control with his fingers, then placed the palm of his hand against it.

Nothing happened.

"Damn," he muttered, kneeling in front of the panel so he could see it better. "Although why I expected it to be simple…"

Cameron watched as John ran his fingers around it again, but this time he used both hands. He would have made an excellent doctor with that delicacy of touch, if his talents had run in that direction.

But John was a "tech-head" above everything else. It was his own patents and inventions that kept the Tomorrow People well supplied. She knew for a fact that he was very close to being wealthy, if not a true millionaire. He hadn't actually had to work a day in his life; instead he spent his time creating new ideas and building the equipment the TP would need to do their work.

If anyone could get that door open, it would be John.

His hands suddenly stopped moving, and with a seemingly unconscious flourish John made a pressing motion. The front of the control popped open, revealing fiber-optic strands and the odd larger wire. Cameron knew, if she'd put her hand in that mess, she would have landed flat on her ass after the inevitable electric shock. But John nonchalantly started pulling the tiny, lighted strands apart, as if he were gently unbraiding a child's hair.

"This is quite fascinating," he murmured. Cameron thought he was most likely talking to himself. "This technology is fairly advanced."

"Can you work it out?" she asked softly, loathe to interrupt.

"It's a hand-print reader," he answered, his voice pitched up now and full of briskness. "Apparently I don't have the correct type of hand. But let's see if I can trick it into thinking I do…"

He did a few things to some of the fiber strands, crossing and re-crossing them until Cameron was completely lost…not that that took a lot. She knew how to run machines, not what made them tick. That was most certainly John's department.

The doors slid open so quickly Cameron actually jumped. "Shit!" she cried, involuntarily clutching her chest. Even though she'd expected John to succeed in his task, she hadn't been at all prepared for it actually happening.

John stood, brushing his hands together in satisfaction. "You know what Tim would say if he heard that sort of language."

"But Tim's not here." She was grinning after her initial surprise.

"And I'm not about to call you down for the judicious use of foul language." He bowed slightly as he ushered her into the elevator car.

Cameron bowed in return, then stepped inside. The car itself was made of the same metal as everything else. Another control panel was on the inside, next to the doors in the traditional place of all elevator buttons everywhere in the universe.

John joined her. He examined the interior panel closely, deciding to take the risk and press one of the buttons. He chose the one farthest up. "Should be the control deck, I reckon."

The doors whooshed closed as quickly as they'd opened. There was a small jerk as the car started upward.

It was at that point Cameron said, "This is too easy."

"Isn't it though?" John agreed. "Even though the Castalii are resigned to their fate now, you can't tell me there wasn't a time when their own technicians couldn't have done exactly this."

"Think the Magestrin know we're on the way?"

"I'm certain they know that someone has at least tampered with the lift. And since we're the only two new arrivals…I'd say the chances are pretty good."

Cameron's heart began to race as the adrenalin started surging through her body. She didn't know what was worse: knowing that they were heading toward danger, or knowing that the danger _knew_ they were coming.

She felt a sudden stab of pain at the back of her neck.

Cameron's hand went up to the implant. Apparently John had felt the same thing, because his hand made the exact movement hers had. His eyes widened, and it was obvious he was having the same thought she was.

The implants had some sort of triggering device that would activate if they left the slave and work areas.

Then the fiery pain knocked her to her knees. Cameron wanted to scream, but didn't have the strength. Her skull felt like it was exploding, even as her vision went red.

She felt the coldness of the deck rise up to meet her. Then she lost consciousness.

 

* * *

 

"Dr. Cuddy?"

She glanced up from the work on her desk, looking at Wilson over the top of her glasses. "What?" she asked, somewhat waspishly.

It was too late to retreat from her apparent bad mood, so Wilson decided to go ahead and beard the lioness in her den. He came up to stand in from of the desk. "I was wondering if you'd heard from House."

He hadn't actually spoken to him since the memorial. Wilson remembered that parting vividly: House had brushed off his offer of support, snapping that he was fine and warning Wilson to stop mothering him. He'd tried to press the issue, but it had made House angry, and words had been said that Wilson hadn't been sure if House had actually meant them, or it was simply in the moment. He'd guessed the latter, knowing the other doctor as well as he did, and chalked it up to House's way of dealing with grief. He'd still managed to take it personally, and had let House sort it out on his own, falling back on phone calls so he wouldn't have to face him.

But he was now officially worried about House. When he'd tried to call that morning – as he had every day since before the memorial – the answering machine had registered as full, and Wilson couldn't leave any more messages. House's cell had been going to voice mail as well, not to mention his refusing to answer the repeated pages the oncologist had sent. Wilson had been certain that his friend would eventually get so fed up that he'd have to answer, if just to cuss him out about bothering him constantly.

But that hadn't worked. House had remained stubbornly silent. Wilson hoped that Cuddy knew what was going on, before he resorted to intrusion into the sarcastic doctor's personal space.

Cuddy sighed, removing her glasses and massaging her nose. Mentioning House's name apparently was having the opposite effect from what Wilson would have guessed: she actually looked concerned. "I would have thought he'd have told you."

"Not a word."

"I'll never understand him." She carefully placed the glasses down on top of the small mountain of papers in front of her. "After the memorial, House asked if he could take a short sabbatical before trying to find a replacement for Cameron. I agreed."

"You did?" Wilson was surprised.

"Look," she replied, resting her hands on the desk, "we both know House was far more upset at what happened than he'd ever admit. If I'd forced him to come back to work before he was ready, he would have been even more impossible to deal with. I felt it was best for all concerned that he get this out of his system, then when he got back he'd be his usual, nasty self. Seemed the lesser of two evils, really."

Wilson nodded. Cuddy was right, of course. "Did he say when he was planning on coming back?"

She shook her head. "I was going to give him a week, then start harassing him with cases that looked interesting."

"Don't bother." He explained about the trouble he'd had getting in touch with House.

"Damnit," she swore lightly. "I didn't expect him to actually leave town or anything."

He knew what she _had_ expected: that he'd hibernate at home, drinking to excess and watching TV. He would have at least kept the answering machine cleaned out, even if he hadn't listened to any of the messages.

"Well, thanks." Wilson turned to leave, even more worried than before.

"Dr. Wilson."

He turned back at her soft call.

"I know you think you could help him, but sometimes it's best if you just leave him be. He'll be fine."

"Yeah," he muttered. "House is _always_ fine." At that, he left the office, heading back toward his own.

His mind was already coming up with a new idea.

 

* * *

 

It was hard to wait til the end of the work day, but Wilson managed. His own paperwork was caught up, and he'd even been able to visit the pediatric oncology ward to see some of his favorite little patients. The children were his heroes, in a way; they had the greatest sources of strength he'd ever seen, even more so than most of the adult patients he had. Despite his certain knowledge that, without a miracle, some of them wouldn't be alive this Christmas – or Hanukkah, as the case may be – he was nearly always upbeat after seeing those tiny, feisty kids greeting him as if he were some long-lost uncle.

But when he found himself outside House's apartment, that good feeling vanished.

He used his key to open the door. The first thing that hit him was the air of neglect that permeated the place like an invisible fog. There wasn't anything overt that screamed: "I'm gone!" but he could feel that House hadn't been there for days.

There was a slight sheen of dust on the piano, which definitely told Wilson that his friend was gone, and hadn't been around for a while. He guessed House must have left either the day of the memorial, or the next. He wondered if this had been a planned trip, or something House had just dreamed up after asking for his sabbatical. Who knew with him?

A cursory search of the apartment yielded absolutely no clues. It did, however, yield House's pager; its plaintive beeping from somewhere within the couch drew Wilson straight to it like a beacon. He absently thumbed it off, just to stop the noise.

Wilson checked the answering machine; the red LED display was blinking "21" rapidly, in an effort to get his attention. He wondered vaguely if there was something on it that would tell him where House had gone.

He touched the "retrieve" button. The machine beeped, then played the first message.

"House," came the voice of Lisa Cuddy, sounding slightly tinny issuing from the tiny speaker, "I know you're there, House, and believe me the last thing I want to do is talk to you after having to deal with you for eight hours, but it's important." She paused, then continued. "Pick up the damned phone, House!" Her voice cracked. "It's about Dr. Cameron – "

There was the unmistakable sound of the receiver being picked up. "Sorry, she's in the shower," House's voice answered, sarcasm making his words snap. "Maybe you should call back later – "

Wilson's blood went cold. He sank onto the couch, his knees not wanting to support him any longer. It was obvious what he was listening to, and while he wanted nothing more than to stop that recording, he found himself unable to.

"Shut the fuck up and listen to me!" Cuddy paused again, as if drawing courage from House's sudden silence. "House, Cameron was in a car accident."

"Are they bringing her there?" His words were choked, as if he'd had to force them out. The recording rustled, and Wilson knew immediately that House was moving.

"No, House, she's…" Cuddy faded out, her own voice catching.

"Where is she, Cuddy?"

What Wilson heard in those four words made him shiver. He'd always known House had had certain feelings for Cameron, but everything he'd ever guessed was more than confirmed in that simple question. Suddenly he felt so very sorry for his friend, for losing someone he'd never admitted – even to himself – to caring for so deeply.

Cuddy spoke again, and she was weeping. "She…she's in the county morgue."

There was a sharp clatter, and the recording stopped. Even as Wilson fumbled to stop the next message from playing, he recognized the sound as a phone being dropped. House must have been so shocked by what Cuddy had said, that he'd lost his grip on the receiver, and when it hit the floor the disconnect button must have been pressed.

He was glad that it hadn't gone on. He didn't think he could have handled hearing that silence.

"Oh, House…" This was the man who'd claimed to be all right after the memorial. How had been able to stand it, being up in front of all those people and talk about Cameron like that?

He should never have believed House. He should have forced the issue, gotten his friend to open up. Instead, Wilson had backed off, and had let his own hurt at House's dismissal to color his actions. He'd been such an idiot!

Now Wilson was more determined than ever to find him. He picked up the phone's receiver, checking the redial to see who he'd called last, hoping that would give him some sort of idea as to where House had gone.

He stared at the long string of numbers for several seconds before realizing he was looking at an international number. Wilson was confused, until he remembered that some of Cameron's friends had come from England.

That made Wilson feel even worse. House must have been the one to let them know what had occurred. Would they have known otherwise?

Would they have any idea where House might have gone?

Wilson hit the "talk" button, and the phone dialed. Even as he was waiting for the call to go through, he thought it could very well be a waste of time. Hadn't he seen Cameron's friend, John, at the memorial? He'd looked considerably different from the first time Wilson had encountered him: in the hospital E.R., critically wounded in that explosion at Intellex. Would someone be there to answer?

"Hello," a kind, British-accented voice replied. "I am sorry, but we are unable to answer at this time. Please leave a message and we will be certain to contact you once we are able. Thank you."

There was the unmistakable beep. Wilson was disappointed, but he left his name and number, then added that he was looking for House and was worried about him.

He hung up.

Suddenly Wilson felt as if he just couldn't stay there any longer. He practically rushed to the door, although he didn't allow his haste to make him forget to make sure the door was locked behind him. All he would need was House coming back and finding his apartment burgled…

The drive back to his own place seemed to last forever. He found his mind replaying that recorded conversation between House and Cuddy. Apparently House'd forgotten that he hadn't erased it; maybe he hadn't even realized it was being saved for posterity…or for a snooping, well-meaning friend to find. Wilson had never heard such emotion from House before, and it did things to his heart – and his impression of Gregory House – that he'd never guessed. He'd always considered House to be a misogynistic bastard…well, he was, truth be known. But Wilson had never known the depths he'd kept hidden away. It was like discovering an entirely new person in the body of his friend.

Maybe he should have looked for the pod…

The first thing Wilson did upon arriving home was to help himself to a beer. He needed it badly, and suspected this was how House felt about his Vicodin. It slugged it back, and didn't stop swallowing until the bottle was empty. Then he grabbed a second, taking this one back to his couch to drink more slowly.

He was halfway through that one, when his phone rang.

He snatched up the receiving, saying "House?" before he'd even known he'd spoken.

"I am afraid not." He recognized the voice as the same one from the British answering machine. "I may assume this is Dr. Wilson?"

"Yes, it is." He sat up without even realizing it.

"My name is Tim, and I am a friend of Greg's," the voice went on. It was just as pleasant as it had been on the recording. It reminded Wilson of an instructor he'd once had in medical school. Although he almost choked on his drink when he realized the person had just called House "Greg."

"Have you heard from him?" he asked, coughing to clear his throat.

"I have," Tim answered. "I actually saw him three days ago."

"House was in England?" Wilson was incredulous. What had caused House to go to another country?

"Indeed. And I can assure you, Dr. Wilson, that he was fine."

The oncologist sighed in relief. "Thank you for calling and letting me know."

"I am glad to do so."

"Did he say when he was coming back?"

Tim hesitated. "I am afraid not. He is…traveling…at the moment. However, he is not alone. Please do not be afraid for him. I can assure you he is in excellent hands."

"Will you call and let me know when he's on his way home?"

"I shall. You have my word."

For some reason Wilson believed him. There was just something in that accented voice that engendered trust. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"There is no need to apologize. Your concern for him does you credit. He has spoken of you highly, and I am gratified that you, too, hold him in such regard."

Wilson was glad to hear this stranger say that, but in the light of that confession he was somewhat confused. "He's never talked about you, though."

Tim chuckled. "I know, and that does not bother me in the slightest. I would suppose you could call me his secret friend. And that is as it should be."

That answer just confused him more, but he let it slide. "Were you also a friend of Cameron's?"

Again he hesitated. "I have known Allison since she was a teenager," he finally replied.

"You couldn't come to the memorial?"

"No, I am…physically unable to do so."

Wilson guessed that meant there was some sort of infirmity involved. "Do you mind if I ask how you met House?"

"Indeed not. He and I met when John was so badly injured. I was able to forward John's medical records, and to help in some small way with paperwork and such. Greg and I became friends in that time. We have a few things in common."

If he had to judge from Tim's voice alone, Wilson seriously doubted it. This person was warm and friendly, while House was sarcastic and rude. Maybe opposites did attract…

"I am sorry, Dr. Wilson, but I must cut our conversation short."

Of course; this was, after all, long distance. "No problem. Thanks again for returning my call. I feel much better about House now."

"It was my pleasure. Perhaps we may talk again sometime."

Wilson realized he'd like that. "Absolutely."

With that, Tim said goodbye and disconnected the call. Wilson hung up as well, realizing that he'd spoken the truth.

He _did_ feel much better about House.

 

* * *

 

John was getting heartily sick of waking up after being rendered unconscious.

He moaned – he was getting tired of moaning in pain, as well – and peeled his eyes open carefully. The agony that met that action wasn't something he was enjoying, either… not that he ever did enjoy _that_ particular sensation.

He was back in his room. Damn. Even though he'd soon realized that his and Allison's finding of the lift and his subsequent "fixing" it had been far too easy , there'd been a part of him that had hoped they'd have gotten at least a glimpse of the Magestrin.

Ignoring the pain that flared across his brain like a supernova, John managed to get out of the bed and onto his feet. He needed to check on Allison; he was dreadfully worried about her, knowing just how badly she'd been reacting to having her mind plugged into the world-ship's engines. John knew in his heart that she wouldn't be able to hold up much longer.

The elder TP made his way to the door, then out into the corridor. There were several Castalii waiting outside, including Cardesh. John wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug look off the male's face.

The blue alien opened his mouth to speak, but John beat him to it. "I want to see Allison," he snapped, "then I'll let you gloat." He pushed past, heading down the corridor toward Allison's quarters.

Marqa was waiting for him. Her red eyes were worried, and John knew the news about Allison wouldn't be good. She didn't say anything; instead, she stepped aside, letting him enter the room.

The healer, Salera, was within. She moved away from the side of the bed as he entered, and if she'd been taller she might have blocked his view of his still-unconscious friend.

If he hadn't seen Allison's chest moving, John would have sworn she was dead. Her face had gone past white; it was gray, her eye sockets blue hollows against that terrible pallor. Her dark hair lay in a tangled mess on the threadbare pillow, almost like a halo around her head.

"It is not good," Salera answered his unspoken question. "Allison cannot take this much longer."

"Tell your husband that," John replied, his sharp tone pitched low.

"You cannot blame Cardesh for this."

"I think I can."

" _You_ are the one who tried to approach the Magestrin," the woman pointed out sadly. "And you took Allison with you, even though you knew she was growing so ill. Did you not think there would be consequences for what you were attempting?"

"And if Cardesh had just done as I asked, and had approached the Magestrin on our behalf, then we wouldn't have had to try what we did."

"You did not listen. Cardesh _cannot_ do what you ask. The Magestrin only come to us; we have no way of contacting them ourselves."

John sighed. "Salera, I don't mean to be insulting, but I simply don't believe that. How does the Magestrin know when there's something wrong with the ships' systems? Or when one of you dies or is unable to work any longer? I do know for a fact that the Magestrin are not telepathic, so there has to be a way of communication in place in order for your elders to report any problems that happen among your people."

The healer opened her mouth to reply, but said nothing. Instead, she laid her small hand on his arm, then left the cabin, closing the metal door behind her.

Leaving John alone with Allison…and his own tumultuous thoughts.

He sat on the edge of the cot, reaching out to touch Allison's forehead. It was a little too warm. She murmured something at his caress, her head moving slightly on its pillow. She didn't awaken, however.

There was no way he could let her get back into that machine. John didn't know how many more "shifts" she could take, but it couldn't be too many more. And there was no way he'd let Allison risk her life.

According to the Castalii, anyone not working would cause everyone to be punished. That as may be, but John wanted to doubt the claim. After all, if every worker were suddenly incapacitated, there would be no one to run the world-ship's systems. Unless there was a way to pinpoint certain individuals for discipline...now that, John could believe. But he just couldn't see the Magestrin risking the running of their ship just to mete out punishment for one person's transgression. Besides, John seriously doubted that the Castalii had even risked such a thing in so long it was entirely possible that, either their memories were faulty; the Magestrin had actually lied about it; or that particular device would no longer be operational.

Of course, he could be completely wrong. Was that a risk he was prepared to take? If the Magestrin did trigger the implants of everyone on board…it would also include Allison. And that might be the straw that broke the camels' back…

It wouldn't matter one way or the other; if Allison didn't regain consciousness before their next shift began, she wouldn't be able to work.

John chewed his lip absently, then realized he was doing it and stopped. It would be up to him to figure out a way to get them out of this, and save both their lives.

He glanced out of the small window, and watched as the stars moved leisurely by. They'd been in so many bad situations before, and had gotten out of them. Yes, he and Allison were prisoners, but there had to be a way to escape. Just because the Castalii had chosen to accept their lot, didn't mean that they had to do the same.

Well, if he couldn't go to the Magestrin, then he had to make the Magestrin come to him.

Allison had been able to get past the dampening that the sockets provided, either because the Magestrin hadn't taken the other facets of her power into account, or they hadn't realized that his friend would be able to use the ships' energy to boost the ability she had. In either case, there just may be something he could do to throw a proverbial spanner in the works…

It would be dangerous. John shivered as the knowledge of what he'd have to do settled uncomfortably in his brain. The Magestrin would have taken all his own known powers into account when they'd kidnapped him, since they had to have learned their mistake. But there was one power he had, that Allison didn't.

Because not all the Tomorrow People were the same.

Even considering the deed brought the memory back, of his brother and how he'd…died. It had taken John a long time to realize that it hadn't truly been his fault. He'd only been fifteen, and just discovering his powers. It was one of the reasons why he was always so keen on trying to locate break-outs; sometimes they had abilities that could be destructive, and they needed more than just the usual amount of help.

But it had been a long time since he'd tried; it only seemed to rear its ugly head when he'd least expected. Could he even access the power? Would it come to his call? Would this be just an act of futility?

Or would it turn out to be something insanely dangerous?

A soft groan broke into his thoughts like thunder. Allison's eyes were flickering open, and the relief he was feeling almost wiped away the apprehension. He took her hand. "Allison? Can you hear me?"

She managed to focus on him, but John didn't like what he saw. Her eyes glittered feverishly, and even their color seemed washed out. "John?" she whispered, her voice unsteady.

He smiled at her, trying to be reassuring. "You're going to be fine."

"Liar." She managed to return the smile. "Can I have a drink of water?"

John glanced around; yes, there was a cup of water on the table beside the bed. He slid his arm under her shoulders, lifting her up so she wouldn't spill.

"Thanks." Her voice seemed a little stronger.

"You're welcome." He helped her to lie back down.

"That was pretty stupid, hmm?"

"It was," he chuckled, "but it had to be tried."

"You're right." Allison sighed, shifting her body in an apparent attempt to get more comfortable. "That…that was bad."

"Allison, I think it would be a good idea if you didn't work the next shift."

"But, John – "

"No, buts. Do you want to kill yourself?"

His friend closed exhausted eyes. "But what about the Castalii?"

"I hate to be heartless here, but they've brought whatever happens onto themselves." He could see her wrestling with that. The older Tomorrow Person knew just how caring Allison was, so this would be hard for her. But at the same time, she had to take care of herself as well. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think the Magestrin will risk the smooth running of their home just to take it out on them." He took her hand once more. "You can't go on like this, Allison. It's too much. Besides, your Dr. House might very well take it out on me if anything happened to you. And I don't think he'd have to commit homicide to do it."

Allison chuckled at that, a smile actually coming into her eyes. "You're right. But he's not "my" Dr. House. Never has been."

John thought back on House's reaction when he'd believed her dead. "I truly doubt that."

"You don't know House the way I do."

"Let me ask you this: would he be going to the trouble of finding you if he didn't care?"

She didn't answer back, seeming to mull over what he'd said. "Even if that were the case," she eventually answered, "he's my boss. There can't be anything between us."

"Sounds like a rationalization to me. After all, weren't you the one who asked him out on a date as a condition of your going back to work for him?"

Two bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks. "I told Elena that in confidence!"

"Don't blame her. I happened to ask one day what exactly your relationship was, and she tried to explain, but finally had to give me an example."

"You shouldn't be snooping into my romantic life when your own needs your attention."

"I don't know what you mean," he denied quickly, not wanting the conversation to head in that direction.

"Please. It's obvious how you feel about Elena."

"She's a friend, of course – "

"Now who's rationalizing?"

John didn't answer that charge. It struck too close to home. He might fantasize about being with Elena, but nothing could ever happen between the two of them. He'd lost too many who'd gotten that close, and wasn't about to risk it with her. She meant too much to him.

He was saved from replying by the shift alarm. Allison flinched, her face screwing up in fear. "John, maybe I should go – "

"Absolutely not." He stood. "You stay here and rest. I'll see you afterward."

She reached out to snag his hand. "Be careful."

He squeezed her fingers in return. "I will be." He smiled at her, then turned away, the frightened look on her face the last thing he saw.

Cardesh was waiting for him outside. He looked startled when John came out alone. "Where is Allison?" he demanded.

"She won't be coming," John stated harshly, walking away.

The alien had to hurry to catch up. "She has to!"

John kept going. "If she gets back into that machine, she'll die."

"And if she does not, we will all suffer the consequences!"

"Then you should prepare for it, because I'm not going to force her to risk her life for your people."

"What about yourself?"

John stopped, turning to face the elder. "I don't matter. Allison does. Get that through your head and deal with it." He strode down the corridor again, knowing that Cardesh would follow.

At least he'd managed to wipe the smugness out of the man…

Despite his bravado, however, the closer John got to his "cubicle" the more frightened he became. He knew what he had to do, and really didn't want to do it. But he had no choice, really; he had to get someone's attention – anyone's attention, really – and if it meant doing some damage to the world-ship then so be it. Allison's life was at stake, and he wasn't going to let anything happen to her. Not if he had anything to say about it.

He was already trying to dig out the power he'd need. It lay just below the surface of his consciousness, in the place he'd banished it to all those years ago. John thought he might be able to access it; he only hoped that, when the time came, he'd have enough strength to let it out then reign it back in.

He got into the lift, surrounded by blue Castalii. John actually found himself fidgeting. He also had to wonder what the Magestrin would do when they came up short a telekinetic. If they didn't do anything, it would prove his case that there was some sort of open communication between the Castalii and the Magestrin. Their captors had to take illness and infirmity into consideration, or they'd risk doing damage to their slave force.

The lift opened, and the cubicle beckoned. John's heart rate went up. He didn't want to get into that tiny box, but had no choice. He thought of Allison, in her quarters, and gathered his courage in both hands.

It disturbed him, the grating of metal against metal as he positioned himself. His teeth ached from it.

John closed his eyes. There seemed to be a glow behind his lids, a reddish tinge that didn't belong. It was that power, growing within. He was going to let it loose, and it wanted that more than anything. It had been caged for far too long.

And the moment he was connected, it escaped…

 

* * *

 

"Ah, please come in," Timus requested, turning to greet them. "There is something happening in Earth's sector of space I thought you might want to be aware of."

Chase and Terry entered the control room. This was where most of the communication to and from the Trig was coordinated; Chase had located it on his second day exploring. The seat of the Galactic Federation was an enormous place, and it would've taken weeks to get around it properly…at least on foot. But, since Chase couldn't teleport, he'd had to rely on Adam to tell him what he was missing.

"Adam will be joining us shortly," Timus went on. "He was somewhere in Engineering, I believe – "

"I'm here, sir," came Adam's voice from behind Chase. He turned, and saw his cousin come into the room as well.

It had been a very interesting couple of days. Adam and Chase had managed to get some long-needed cousinly bonding done, as well as trying to assimilate their surroundings. Part of it had been fun; but others not so much. Chase had to admit to himself that he'd found the whole "alien races" thing disturbing. There were so many _different_ ones, and it was so beyond his experience he just felt it best to ignore most of it and keep his mind on having a good look around.

Everything seemed to be a combination of low- and high-tech. There'd be times when Chase could immediately identity what something did, just from the way it looked; other times, the machines were so far above him he'd felt like an idiot. He'd been most comfortable in the medical section; a heart monitor appeared to be the same on any world, even if the heart making it beat wasn't what he was familiar with.

He'd also been able to sit in on some of the tests being run on the clone. While he didn't know John at all well, in ways seeing the Trig scientists working on what appeared to be Allison's friend bothered Chase greatly. Maybe it was just because John _was_ her friend, that he felt so annoyed by the proceedings. Not that anything seemed to give them any clues about who'd taken both him and Allison…

"What's going on, Timus?" Terry asked, moving to stand next to the ambassador. The Tomorrow Person was hard to fathom, and Chase had to wonder just what he was hiding. This so-called rapport between him and Danielle wasn't helping them at all; she was still blocking Terry out…or if she'd stopped, he wasn't mentioning it. The doctor had realized early on that, if she and House _did_ get into any trouble, there was no way they could get to them in time. The ship they'd transported to had moved out of both traveling and communication range. And even if the ship moved back into position, it would still take three days to get to them.

This wasn't a back-up plan; this was a disaster.

"It appears that the Magestrin world-ship has penetrated your area of space," Timus answered.

"Earth is still a closed world," Terry mused. "Shouldn't they've given some sort of warning if they were passing through?"

"Wait a minute: who the hell are the Magestrin?" Chase butted in, already confused by the conversation.

"The Magestrin," the elderly alien began, "are a non-telepathic race who once lived on the outskirts of Sorson space." No, Chase wasn't going to ask what "Sorsons" were. "Their planet was made uninhabitable by a world-wide war that destroyed their biosphere. However, there were those who foresaw what would happen, and they took to the stars by building an immense spaceship, a new home for their people." Timus touched a control on the panel he was standing in front of. A screen popped on, revealing a weirdly shaped craft floating against a backdrop of stars. The bottom of the world-ship looked like a silvery brick, while the rest of the vessel was a finely filigreed network connecting spheres of varying sizes. It was all too strange. "They now travel the universe, trading with other, planetary-bound races."

"Are they members of the Federation?" Adam asked.

"No, although we have made overtures in the past. We do allow them to travel where they will, however."

"Except around closed worlds."

"Exactly, Terry. You were right; they should have informed us they were nearing your solar system. Although, as long as they don't actually approach Earth, we shall not interfere with them. However, there is something odd about the world-ship's behavior that I thought I would draw your attention to."

Chase looked at the vessel. As far as he could see, it looked like a Christmas tree on crack, but nothing struck him as unusual…wait. "Shouldn't it be moving faster than that?"

"You are correct, Robbie." Everyone had taken to calling Chase by that name. It'd felt strange at first, since Adam had been the only one to ever do it. But now he was almost used to it. "The world-ship is drifting. It appears to be in some sort of trouble."

"Have you contacted them yet, sir?" Adam inquired. He'd never gotten into the habit of calling the former president by his given name, even though they'd all been invited to do so.

The alien – looking like a bi-pedal dolphin – who was sitting at the screen nodded in reply. "We have yet to receive a response," Timus said. "However, I thought you should be present as representatives of your world, when they do reply."

"Do you expect them to?" Chase asked. "After all, they're not supposed to be there."

"If they're in trouble," Terry answered, "they'll need help."

Chase kept looking at the world-ship. It sat there, looking ominous. "It can't be coincidence, can it?" he murmured.

No one answered his rhetorical question. It had to have crossed all their minds that the Magestrin world-ship was in the right place, at the right time. Could they've had something to do with Allison's and John's disappearances?

"What reason would they have?" Adam asked. "What possible use would two TP be to the Magestrin?"

No one answered those questions, either. But Adam was correct: why would a non-telepathic race need two telepaths? It didn't make sense.

But that didn't stop Chase from wondering.

"Ambassador," the dolphin alien said in a bubbly voice, "we are receiving a signal from the Magestrin."

"Give us visual, please."

The picture on the screen changed, to reveal a control room not that far different from the one they were in now. However, the major difference was the fact that a couple of the panels had apparently been on fire; they were scorched, and one actually was still smoking.

The alien though, drew Chase's attention from what was going on in the room beyond. He almost looked human as well…in fact, he could've been Eric Foreman's brother. His dark skin complimented a pair of brown eyes that stared at them out of the screen. He was completely hairless; upon closer examination, he was even missing eyebrows and lashes. His clothing was a beautiful rich blue, and looked almost like a military uniform. "I am Kalakashar, Captain of the Magestrin world-ship." His voice was deep, and Chase was surprised it didn't vibrate the screen off the wall.

"I an Timus Irnok Mosta, Ambassador to the planet Earth," Timus replied, his voice equally powerful. For someone who sounded a lot like Chase's grandfather, he could sure turn it on. "You have entered restricted space. Please identify the reason for the trespass."

"I do apologize, Ambassador," Kalakashar answered. "We were unaware that this sector was off-limits. May I ask why?"

"The Earth is currently a closed world, although it is on the verge of developing a telepathic life form. As a matter of fact, I have been entertaining representatives from that world here, on the Trig."

The captain's eyes widened slightly when he caught sight of Terry, Adam, and Chase. There was something in that reaction that bothered the doctor. Why should it surprise him to see them there? There were enough humanoid aliens on the Trig; certainly these aliens had run into them before? Hell, Timus was one, and the captain hadn't seemed to think anything about it at all. It couldn't be what they looked like, then.

It had to be where they were from.

And then it hit Chase. The Magestrin knew damned well that the space they were in was a no-fly zone. They were there because they wanted to be, not because they'd blundered in by accident. It brought him back to his earlier question: that it somehow wasn't a coincidence. Why they'd want Allison and John though? How could they even know about the existence of the Tomorrow People?

It just didn't make sense!

Then the inevitable notion that Foreman was some sort of alien spy crossed his mind, and he had to stifle a snicker.

"Then the residents of Earth are also members of the Federation, despite their world still being closed?" Kalakashar was definitely disturbed about something, judging from the odd note in his deep voice.

"In a way," Timus answered. "Those who have already developed their powers are most definitely are. The Federation has been aware of them now for quite some time now, and in matter of fact one of our premier diplomats was born on Earth."

That didn't go over very well, but the Magestrin tried to hide it. "We shall be more than happy to leave as soon as we can. However, we have suffered some damage from a fire that has broken out in our computer core. As soon as we have made the necessary repairs, we will be on our way."

"If there is anything the Federation can do to assist – "

"We shall contact you." With that, the Magestrin faded from the screen, and the image of their control room was replaced once more by the exterior view of the ship.

"That certainly explains why they aren't doing anything but drifting," Terry said.

"He was hiding something." Chase didn't phrase it as a question. The entire conversation had sent his alarm bells ringing.

"You are right, of course."

The doctor was surprised to hear Timus agreeing with him. "Makes you wonder what it is, doesn't it?"

"Indeed. However, there is nothing we can do about it at present. All we can do is wait, and hope they accept our offer of aid. If they do, it would give up the perfect opportunity to have a look around. Although, I am like you, Robbie, in thinking that their presence in Earth sector is hardly a coincidence, but without proof we can do nothing."

Chase was frustrated, but understood what Timus was saying. They couldn't risk pissing off the Magestrin, just in case they _were_ responsible for taking Allison and John.

"But we still don't know why they'd take our friends," Terry interjected. He looked irritated, to say the least, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That is a mystery we may yet solve," the ambassador said, laying a hand on the American's shoulder. "Do not fear, my friend. We shall find John and Allison and bring them home."

Chase didn't think they were the only two people Terry was concerned about. "We can't go aboard ins some sort of official capacity? I mean, they're trespassing, and I don't think they're as ignorant as they let on."

"As I said, I do agree with you. Yet we cannot simply act on instinct…even one as strongly honed as yours."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, that instinct was something he had to thank House for. A lot of what his boss did was instinctual, and it had rubbed off. "Then we sit on our hands and wait." He was so frustrated he found himself grinding his teeth.

"I'm afraid so." Timus was trying to sound soothing, but it wasn't working.

"Maybe the Magestrin will – " Terry's comment was suddenly cut off as the man went hideously pale. Timus's hand on his shoulder was possibly the only thing keeping him standing.

Chase moved in, his internal doctor coming to the fore. He checked the Tomorrow Person's eyes; the pupils were pinpoints within the gray. Terry's pulse was thready, his breathing shallow.

"It is some sort of psionic backlash," Timus snapped, going from grandfather to business all in the space of a second. He touched Terry's temple with thin fingers. "Adam, call down to the medical bay – wait, he's coming out of it."

True to Timus's diagnosis, Terry's eyelids began to flutter, and he took a deep breath. As Chase watched, his pupils regained their normal size. "I'm okay," he whispered.

"What happened?" That attack threw Chase, and he realized what had it must have been even before Terry answered.

"Something's happened to Danielle."

 

* * *

House didn't want to wake up, but supposed he really had to.

He groaned, the pain in his head drowning out the usual pain in his leg. The white light stabbed into his eyes like scalpels, making him snarl out a curse. He blinked to clear his vision, wondering vaguely what had made him feel this shitty.

The room around him was made of some sort of white stone, which mostly likely accounted for the light from the lamps on the walls reflecting that brightness around like mirrors. House was lying on a pallet that seemed to be spread out on the floor, he rolled over, groaning again as he went over onto the bad hip. Where in the hell was he?

The last thing he remembered was the pressure in his skull, and seeing those indistinct shapes coming toward him. Wonderful. Kidnapped by unknown aliens. Just what he wanted to happen at the end of the day.

He glanced around some more, spotting Danielle lying on a similar pallet against the opposite wall. House made his painful way toward her. If he was awake, why wasn't she? Certainly she'd be far more used to being knocked unconscious by telepathy! She should be able to bounce back just like that!

Her pupils were fixed and contracted, and her vital signs did nothing to inspire confidence in a quick recovery. Whatever it had been, had hit her particularly hard. That left House on his own, which wasn't usually a bad thing.

But there didn't appear to be a door in any of the walls. And the last time House checked, he needed help to jaunt.

He was well and truly trapped.

House slumped against the wall, his bad leg stretched out in front of him. "Hello!" he called out, on the off chance someone was eavesdropping on them. "Come out, come out whoever you are! Ollie ollie oxen free!"

All that met his shout were dead sounding echoes. It got better and better, didn't it?

Guess that meant he had to wait. Not something House was particularly good at, truth be told. He patted the pocket of his A-E suit; oh yeah, his Vicodin was still there. He popped a couple, one for his leg and the other for his head. They took his cane but left his drugs. Nice aliens, weren't they?

After what seemed like an eternity, but could have been just a few minutes, House began to feel like he wanted to bang his head into the wall. He glanced over at his companion. Danielle hadn't moved at all, and that lack of movement was beginning to concern him. What if that attack had somehow damaged her? There was no way for House to tell, without at least a CT of her head. And even if there wasn't anything wrong with her brain, she was still stubbornly unconscious.

Any way you said it, it meant he was on his own.

Well, time to do something about that, wasn't it?

"Hello!" he shouted again. "Look, I know you have to be listening in, so why don't you just show yourselves and we can get this whole prisoner/captor thing out of the way? Come on, all the bad guys like to rant! Hell, you can go on as long as you want, it's not like I can get away or anything! You know you want to!"

House stopped, waiting for any sort of response. Nothing. Damnit!

"Why don't you come and tell me what you want! Not like there's anything I can do to meet your demands, but at least I wouldn't be talking to four walls! Not that I don't actually do that at home, because I like to have an intelligent conversation every once in a while…come on, quit being cowards and show yourselves!" He threw his hands up in anger. "This is fucking ridiculous. Not even evil alien kidnappers listen to me."

"We are not evil."

The sudden voice about sent House flying off the floor in surprise. He found the source immediately.

It was an alien, all right. A female one.

She was short, and thin, and her skin was completely white. Her hair was also mostly white, but it had black streaks in it, making her look like a reverse punk rocker. Black eyes looked at him, with a mixture of fear and sorrow. Her hands were folded across her stomach, almost glowing against the black dress she was wearing. Did she have only three fingers?

And somehow she'd just appeared there. It must have been teleportation.

"Well, you could've fooled me," House scoffed. "Don't think the good guys attack people and hold them in rooms without any doors in them."

"You were trespassing on our world," the woman answered. "We have a right to defend ourselves."

"Your world?" House's mind wrapped itself around that. "You're Castalii? I thought you were all dead!"

Now, this was a turn of events he hadn't expected at all. Everyone had been so sure the Castalii'd been wiped out. Had there been solar flares at all? There had to have been, judging from the planet itself. But how had these people managed to survive?

House found himself asking that very question.

"We are deep underground, safe from the radiation above. And this is where we shall always remain."

Made sense, he supposed. "But why grab us? We had no idea you were even here."

"Your companion might have sensed us, and we could not risk that."

It hit House suddenly. "What are you afraid of?"

The woman's thin mouth curved up in what, for a human, would have been a self-deprecating smile. "Perhaps we misjudged who we should have been concerned about."

"What did you do to her, anyway?"

"We have shut down her mind."

House was shocked. "What the hell are you playing at? Do you have any idea what damage you could be causing?"

"We are familiar with mental powers; we know what we are doing."

"Do you actually have experience with a human mind?" Could Allison and John be here? Could that be how these Castalii'd known what to do to Danielle?

"No." The alien's answer sank House's hopes. "We have not had any dealings with her race at all."

"Then how can you be sure what you've done hasn't done anything to her mind?"

"We know." She seemed so certain; House knew he wouldn't be able to shake her confidence.

So he had to try another tack. "How long do you think you can keep us here without someone coming to investigate?"

"That is the problem." Now she seemed unsure. "We thought to modify your memories, to make you forget that you were even here. However, your mind will not take the modification. We are at a loss."

"What gave you the right to mess with my mind without my permission?" House was outraged. He levered himself up off the floor, limping heavily to tower over their captor. "You decide you can do whatever you want just because you're afraid to show yourselves?"

"We have no choice."

"And what would've happened if you'd gotten us to forget? Enough people know we're coming here! They would've realized something was wrong and come to investigate! Or do you think you're a match for the Galactic Federation?"

The woman froze. "You are from the Federation?"

"Duh! Didn't I just say so?"

She was chewing her lip, confusion furrowing her smooth brow. "Then perhaps we have made a mistake."

"I should say so!"

"I shall need to confer with our elders. You will stay here." Her eyes closed in concentration.

House knew she was going to teleport away. He did the only thing he could think of.

He grabbed her up in a hug.

The room faded out around him, replaced by another room, this one made of a darker stone. The moment he felt completely _there_ , he released the woman, who was backing away from him in shock. "How dare you!" she gasped.

"I think I asked you guys the same question." He was just relieved that the woman could teleport with the two of them. It had been a risk, but he wasn't about to remain behind.

He looked around, seeing the room in more detail. Comfortable furniture and thick carpets filled the area, and the light wasn't nearly so overpowering. There was a door in this room, and House realized just how claustrophobic that cell had been without one.

There were other aliens in the room as well. Two women and a man stood there, staring at him in shock equal to his "rides' own. All three had the same white complexion and hair, but the streaks were different: the man was in green; one of the women was what House would have called indigo; and the second woman was blue. "Sorry about barging in like this," he said, by way of introduction, "but there was no way in hell I was going to let you guys decide my fate without saying a few words on my own. Besides, I was bored."

The blue woman acted first. Her eyes narrowed, but House felt the effects immediately. That pressure he'd felt outside returned, although not nearly as bad as before.

Before it could incapacitate him, House stomped toward her and slapped her in the face. "Don't even think about it, missy," he snapped. "I only want to talk." The pressure vanished.

The woman rubbed her cheek, her eyes wide in alarm. A red mark was blooming across the too pale skin, his handprint in her flesh.

The man stepped forward. He touched her face carefully, and in seconds the redness vanished.

House was impressed. "Neat trick," he complimented. He suspected he'd seen his first healer. Allison had told him they were out there, but were very rare. "Good thing you're not on Earth, you'd put me out of business."

"You are a healer?" the man asked, surprised.

"A doctor, yes. You mean you didn't find that out while you were poking around in my head?" He put as much rancor in his voice as he could. One of the things he respected about the Tomorrow People were their scruples about reading another person's mind without permission.

The man looked at the blue woman. She shrugged. "Yes, we did read that. However, we chose not to consider it important."

"Despite the council's ruling that all healers are to be cherished, since there are so few of us now?" The man sounded almost as outraged as House felt.

"This is a different case – "

"No, it is not, Tala. You cannot pick and choose what is and is not law."

"In this case we felt it was of no matter, since these two were alien and were endangering our people."

"How were we supposed to do that?" House demanded. "We didn't even know you were here, let alone still around and kicking."

"Then why are you here?" the man asked.

House explained everything; he felt he didn't have a choice. He told them about Allison's apparent death; the discovery that a clone had taken her place; and the evidence that had led him and Danielle here. He finished up with John's own disappearance.

The four Castalii looked at each other as he finished. "You are saying you found traces of one of our people in your investigation?" The blue woman – Tala – didn't seem to believe him.

"Of castalanium, I think I said. Are you deliberately trying to misunderstand or do you need your ears checked?"

The indigo lady snickered. Tala glanced at her witheringly, but that didn't stop the chuckle. In fact, it made it worse. "The only way for castalanium to get to your world is if one of our people created it there," she said lightly.

"And you would know this entire tale from looking into his mind," the healer retorted, not at all amused. "Yet another thing you did not think mattered?"

Tala didn't even pretend to look bothered by his anger. "You are not of the council. You do not know our business."

"Back this up a bit," House interjected. He pointed to the woman who'd made the claim about the castalanium. "Just what did you mean by that?"

"I meant exactly what I said," she replied, serene under the storm of his curiosity. "It can be a bi-product of some of our talents, depending on the material affected. I am Larha, by the way."

House acknowledged the introduction with an absent nod, his mind already turning over that piece of information. And of course it came to the obvious conclusion. "Then the Castalii took my friends." He included John in that category, just for simplicity.

"That is not possible," Tala snapped. "Our people have not left our world in many years."

"Oh yeah? And just why are you hiding anyway?" House suspected it had something to do with this mystery, and he was determined to make this piece fit as well.

"You have no need to know – " Tala began.

The green man said something the translator refused to give up, making House wonder if it was some sort of particularly nasty cuss word. The tone sure made it sound like it, and Tala's flush confirmed it. "We have been living in fear for so long the council no longer think beyond it," he said. "It cannot do any harm for him to know, Tala."

The blue alien seethed, but remained quiet.

"I am called Loran," he went on, " and Larha is my sister. And you have already met Carela, our teleporter." The woman being introduced nodded. "Please, be seated."

House was glad to do so, his leg was protesting even past the Vicodin he'd taken. "Look, I know the story: there were solar flares." The chair was patently made for the smaller Castalii; he had to stretch out to be comfortable.

"That is correct." Loran sat beside him, in another chair. "However, what you do not know is that we, ourselves, caused them."

That was quite possibly the last thing House had expected to hear. "You mean you did this to yourselves?"

"We did. And before you think us mad, you must know that we did it for a very good reason."

He couldn't imagine a good enough reason to do something like that, but motioned the man to continue.

"As you might be aware, we were offered membership in the Galactic Federation several times, but each time we refused, thinking our people self-sufficient enough to not need their aid. We were proven wrong, to our shame."

Carela handed House a glass of some clear liquid; thinking it was water, he took a large swig. Then promptly choked on the sharp taste of some sort of acrid juice. The teleporter thumped him on the back to clear his throat. He thanked the woman, wiping the tears from his eyes. His next sip was smaller, and he could savor the taste. It was extremely tart, and yet sweet, almost like the strongest orange juice imaginable. He wondered vaguely how it would taste with vodka. "Got to get me some of that!" he gasped. He motioned Loran to continue.

"We welcomed the Magestrin with open arms. We traded with them, thinking them friendly. But after several years, they betrayed us and stole away hundreds of our people. We do not know why."

"So what? You decided to hide from them, instead of confronting them?" Yet another piece of the puzzle, but House wasn't exactly sure where that one fit.

"We were afraid they would come back, so our elders developed the plan to make them think we were all dead."

"But you left your own people with the Magestrin. Not much brotherly love there." House was disgusted. These aliens were the biggest wimps in the galaxy. "You should've done something to save them."

"Like what?" Tala asked sharply.

"Like…maybe going to the Federation?" Were these beings intentionally thick, or was it congenital?

"What would they have done? We did not have any sort of treaty with them. They would not have done anything."

"You people are so stupid!" House couldn't take it anymore. "You didn't even try, did you? You ran and hid while other members of your race were taken away to whatever fate awaited them. Did you even care about them, or were you just too interested in saving your own skins?"

"That is unfair!" Tala cried.

"You're right; it is." He wanted to slap her again, this time hard enough to knock some brain cells loose. "It's unfair to those poor souls you let rot in some Magestrin hell because you were too scared to do anything to help them. You people live down here in fear while the beings who stole whole big swadges of your population get away with it. This is sick, you do know that? Do you have any idea if they're even still alive?" House paused, as another piece of the mystery puzzle slotted itself into place. "Oh, shit… of course they're still alive. They're the ones who took Allison and John." It was the only thing that made sense.

But that was about the only thing that did. The big question was: why? For what reason would these expatriate Castalii kidnap two Tomorrow People and put clones in their places?

This would mean that Allison and John were most likely prisoners of the Magestrin, whoever they were. That was assuming that the Castalii they'd taken were still being held captive…yes, that fit, simply because the rest of the galaxy was still assuming that all the Castalii had been wiped out. House doubted the Magestrin would want the Federation finding out they were using a psionic race for…what? Slave labor? That would make the most sense, although just how were they keeping them captive escaped him at the moment. Maybe some sort of dampener? He had first-hand knowledge of them, from the Intellex affair.

Which meant, logically, that Allison and John were being used in the same way he Castalii were. "I have to get out of here." He stood unsteadily. "Where the hell is my cane?"

"We cannot let you leave," Tala said, smiling darkly. "We cannot let you take the knowledge of our existence out into the galaxy. The Magestrin might return."

"You really _are_ stupid, aren't you?" He bent over, getting right into her face. "The Magestrin are holding my friends. I won't leave them the way you left your own people. And if I can save what's left of them, I'll do that too. You can stay and rot down here for eternity. I could care less. Now, are you going to turn Danielle back on and show us the way out, or do I have to go through the lot of you? Because don't doubt for a moment that I won't, and to hell with the lot of you."

Tala's blue eyes bored into his. House wasn't about to back down. Not for her; not for anybody.

And he didn't pity the ones who got in his way.

 

* * *

 

Cameron was scared.

She lay there, on her hard bunk, the echo of the door closing behind John ringing in her ears. She was actually going to stay put, and take his word that the Magestrin wouldn't risk punishing the Castalii because then no one would be there to run the world-ship's systems. Well, he'd been right so many times before, how could she doubt him now?

Truth be told, Cameron didn't want to move. Her entire body felt disjointed, like every bone was slightly out of place. Her head was thumbing with a perpetual migraine, racing in time with her elevated blood pressure. This was taking far too much out of her, and everything in her was protesting the treatment.

The doctor in her told her she was dying. That being plugged into the ship, over and over again, was killing her.

Surprisingly, she felt calm about it. Her life as a Tomorrow Person often put her in danger, and this was just another one of those times. Not that she was being blasé about it; that was as far from the truth as a person could get. No, Cameron didn't mind dying.

What she minded was the fact that she'd gotten John into this.

And then the thought popped into her tortured mind that she'd also gotten House involved, at least peripherally.

That did upset her. She'd sworn she wouldn't do anything that would bring him any farther into her world. A part of her was saying not to be silly; after all, how could she have known an alien race would pick up her telekinetic signature, and kidnap her, as well as faking her death so no one would look for her? There was simply no way she could've prepared for it.

Cameron wondered where he was now. Would he come to her rescue? That wonderful image of him being her knight made her smile. If she was going to die, she would've liked to see him again.

Maybe she would've had the guts to tell him how she felt.

No, not if it was the last thing she said to him. Cameron wouldn't want to hurt him.

She felt a sudden twinge at the back of her neck. She shivered, realizing that the Magestrin knew she wasn't on her shift. No, no no no no…she wanted more than anything to avoid what was going to happen.

Cameron braced herself, knowing what was to come. She bunched her fists into the thin sheets, trying to prepare herself.

But the expected pain didn't come.

Instead, a warbling alarm began to sound. The noise made her jump, and it echoed through her aching skull. What the hell was going on?

Cameron forced herself to stand. Her knees felt like jello, but she managed to stay upright. She wobbled toward the door, slamming into it when her legs suddenly gave out. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all…

The door was heavy, but she did get it to open. On the other side, Castalii were running down the hall, and every one of them looked panicked. Cameron managed to grab one, an orange male, and asked him what the alarm was about.

He could've pulled from her grasp, she was that weak. Instead, he answered her. "There has been damage in the computer core. We are being summoned."

Cameron's heart stopped for a split second even as the alien was leaving her. All she could think was that John was in the computer core. That was where he'd been assigned…

Using the wall for support, Cameron made her way toward the elevators. She was being passed by more of the orange aliens, joined by blues and reds and greens. She cursed, wanting to move faster but being unable to. Being jacked into the ship had taken far too much, and she didn't have anything else left to give. She started to topple, and tried to grab for anything to keep her from going down.

Then she felt hands on her waist, steadying her. Cameron glanced down; a blue male was holding her up, helping her to keep moving. She didn't thank him; instead she saved her breath for walking.

More Castalii than she'd thought were on the world-ship were milling in the large common area in front of the engine room. She and her companion headed for the elevators, him pushing their way through the crowd to get there.

Most of the aliens moved out of their way. Cameron didn't notice, her concentration fully on making it to those double doors.

"I'm coming with you," she said when the alien tried to leave her there.

"You are weak, you shall not be needed," came the response.

"My friend is there," she insisted. "Try and keep me away."

The alien didn't look too certain, but helped her into the crowded car. Cameron wondered if it would be safe for her to be there; after all, the last time she'd taken a ride there'd been a great deal of pain involved, as well as a long bout of unconsciousness. Apparently the implants allowed them into certain areas of the world-ship, and since her own workstation was in engineering, would it let her go anywhere else? Well, she'd just have to risk it. She had to know if John was all right.

The elevator moved smoothly upward, stopping after what seemed like an interminable amount of time, but was actually only a few seconds. When the doors opened, the Castalii with her flooded around her, leaving her alone. Cameron staggered after them, the acrid stink of burning plastic hitting her in the face and making her gag.

Several pieces of equipment in the computer core were on fire. The flames were licking their way up toward the ceiling, while orange Castalii clustered around the various consoles. They were pointing fingers or waving their hands around the fires, and they seemed to be fading. Cameron guessed they must be pyrokinetics, able to control fire. It would make sense with that orange coloring.

She looked around, finding the cabinets easily. Healers were getting the blue Castalii out of the tight couches, checking them over. Most was already conscious, apparently not hurt by whatever it was that had happened.

Then she saw John, still in his cabinet. Cameron made her way over to him, needing to see if he was all right as well.

Different from the telepaths, he was unconscious. She reached in, checking the pulse in his neck. Cameron was immediately struck by how warm he was; his pulse was also thumping as if he'd just run several miles. Trickles of sweat trailed down his flushed forehead. She reached around to the back of his neck, wanting to check the socket and plug that still connected him to the ship.

There was wetness back there; when she pulled her hand away, it was stained with blood.

Cameron couldn't panic, not now. She'd done enough of that since this whole thing began. Instead, she put her hand back there once more, sticking her fingers between the back of John's head and the couch, and tried to pull him away from the prong. His head moved a little, but she wasn't strong enough to do it on her own. She turned, to look for any healer. "Help me!" she called out, trying to get the attention of one or two who were hovering around the closest blue Castalii.

A man glanced up, met her eyes. He stood, jogged toward her. "I am sorry, I did not know he was unconscious," he answered.

"Let's get him out of here," Cameron said. "He's bleeding from the socket."

The green eyes went wide. He didn't say anything; instead, he got on the other side, his own fingers finding Cameron's own under John's head. He apparently didn't like what he was feeling, for he called for more help.

Two more greens and a red came to the rescue. One of the healers gently pushed Cameron out of the way, and she wasn't about to argue. She was too weak to move John, let alone support any of his weight.

Together, the four Castalii lifted the elder Tomorrow Person from the cabinet, laying him gently on the deck. Cameron knelt beside him, helping to hold his head steady as the healer took a good look at the socket.

"There has been some damage, however I believe it is to the mechanism itself, and not his brain," the Castalii reported.

Cameron sighed in relief. "Thank God." She carefully laid John's head in her lap, absently stroking his forehead. "Does anyone know what's happened?"

"Not as yet," the healer replied. "That will be determined once the fires have all been extinguished." He placed a small hand over John's forehead, closing his eyes. When he opened them once more, he was smiling. "I was correct; the damage was done to the implant. He is simply unconscious from shock. He will recover."

"Thank you." She realized the irony of the gratitude the moment she'd spoken.

"You are most welcome." The alien stood. "Stay with him, he should awaken soon." He and the others left her alone with her friend.

Cameron wondered what had caused the fire. Some sort of equipment failure? If that were true, then why hadn't any of the blue Castalii plugged into the system discovered the problem?

It was then she realized just what the healer had said: John's implant was damaged. Apparently it had happened when whatever it was occurred. Had there been some sort of connection?

And would this mean John would have his powers back when he woke up?

That thought made her smile. If he did regain his abilities, he could call for help. That could very well be their ticket out of this place. Cameron also knew it wouldn't take the Magestrin long to recognize that one of their slaves was free. That meant he had to wake up, and soon, if they wanted to send out a signal.

Cameron laid her cheek on his forehead, hoping the direct contact would somehow get past her own implant. _"John, I don't know if you can hear me, but you have to wake up now. Your implant was damaged, so you might be able to get in touch with someone! Please, John…open your eyes."_ She was pleading, and she didn't care. She had to get through to him, somehow!

She didn't sense anything from him, but that didn't mean anything. Cameron lifted her head, checking his vital signs once more. John's heartbeat was calming, and the touch of her skin against his had revealed that the fever he'd been running was fading. She felt relieved, but this still wasn't him regaining consciousness!

"What are you?"

Cameron started at the voice. She looked up, to see Cardesh staring at her. He was angry. "You know what we are," she retorted, tightening her grip on her friend. "We've explained – "

"Not everything," he spat. "He – " pointing to John – "has caused this, and I want to know how."

That accusation surprised her. "How it that possible?" she countered. "Our powers are dampened by the implants – "

"Something in him was not. And it has caused all this! We shall all be punished for it!"

"And I'm telling you," Cameron tried to sound patient, "there's no way John could have caused anything using his powers. Check your own equipment before you start blaming us, all right? We're probably more helpless than you are!" Which was certainly true. Even sitting there, arguing with him, was tiring her out even more.

"You only pretend helplessness! If your friend was able to do this, then what have you been doing to the engines? How much sabotage have you done and we do not know it yet?"

Cameron was pissed off now. Her anger lent her some of the strength she was lacking. "How can I be doing anything to your damned engines, when I don't have a clue how they even run off my brain?"

"You have lied to us from almost the very beginning! You are some sort of spy – "

"Excuse me! Just who kidnapped whom here? I certain didn't ask to be kidnapped! And I certainly wouldn't be making my family think I was dead just to mess around with your precious machines!"

"But you were able to signal to your accomplice – "

"Sure I was! Once! And I wasn't even aware of doing it until you told me about it!" Cameron's head felt like it was splitting open. She vaguely wondered just how high her blood pressure was going.

"And now you pretend illness in order to punish the rest of us – "

"Now just a damned minute!" She was shouting; she couldn't help it. "Go and ask your wife if I've been faking. I'm sure she'll tell you what I already know: I'm dying! Your machines are killing me! And there's not a fucking thing I can do about it! I've done everything I've been told since I got here, out of respect for your people and a true wish to protect them. Even though you're the idiots who've put up with this slavery so long you don't know any different, I honestly didn't want anything to happen to anyone. So I worked, and let myself get plugged into that engine, and I didn't give a shit about my own life as long as your people weren't hurt. So come down off your soapbox and get some perspective, because quite honestly I'm sick of your condescension and your pride! You're prisoners here! That's all! You're no better than me, or John, or anyone else around here. Get over yourself, Cardesh, and deal with it: you're collaborating with the very race that made yours into slaves. You're going to die here, just like I am. Only I get to go a lot sooner than you will." Cameron suddenly felt tired; she slumped over John's body, trying to get her breath back.

Apparently Cardesh wasn't going to say anything. That was good, because she just didn't want to deal with him any longer. Her only concern now was for John, and herself. Nothing else mattered. They had to get the hell off this ship.

Because suddenly Cameron's greatest wish was that she wouldn't die there. She'd been resigned to it, but her temper tantrum had brought her to face what was happening to her . If she was going to die, then she wanted to be home, with people who cared about her. Not in some huge spaceship surrounded by people who actually enjoyed being slaves.

And while she might be helpless to do anything about getting them out of there, she knew there were people out there trying to find them. She had to trust in them.

Cameron had to trust in House. She had to have the faith that he'd come to the rescue.

Because she didn't want to die without seeming him once more.

She was so lost in her thoughts that it wasn't until someone grabbed her arm that she realized she wasn't alone. Her head jerked up too quickly; her vision swam and she felt dizzy. Cameron blinked, and looked up into the face of one of the orange Castalii. He also looked angry, and she sighed mentally, preparing herself for yet another fight. "What?" she demanded weakly.

"Your friend," he indicated John, "started the fire that has damaged the computer core."

"Look, I've already went through this with Cardesh. It's not possible, okay? Our powers are being stifled by these things in our heads. Besides, John can't start fires. It's not one of his powers."

"Then you do not know your friend. We have traced the source of the fire, and it was created by your companion."

Cameron shook her head, wary of making herself dizzy again. "And I'm telling you: none of the Tomorrow People are pyrokinetics. It must have been a malfunction in the equipment he was hooked up to that caused it."

"There was no malfunction." The man didn't seem to be as angry anymore. He looked at her appraisingly. "You did not know he was a firestarter?"

She rolled her eyes, which was a mistake as the room spun. "John would've said something about it if he could start fires."

"I believe your friend has not been completely honest with you." The man bent over, carefully peeling one of John's eyelids back. "See."

Cameron looked. And had to look again before realizing what the Castalii was indicating.

John's normally dark eye was faintly glowing, like a coal that was slowly going out.

Cameron stopped breathing in horrified shock. _John really was a pyrokinetic_. And he hadn't said anything about it.

 

* * *

 

Chase really wished Terry would quit pacing. It was driving him round the twist.

Yes, he could understand that the Tomorrow Person was worried about Danielle. It'd been nearly fourteen hours since he'd lost his rapport with her, and there was no way they could even get to Castalia in time. Timus was trying to arrange transportation, but it would be too little, too late.

It wasn't as if he wasn't concerned, too, but there the Magestrin world-ship was taking up too much of his time – when he wasn't grinding his teeth to keep in the comments he really wanted to make at Terry's expense. He just couldn't shake the idea that it was there for a _reason_ …and the reason being the kidnapping of Allison and her friend, John. But he just couldn't come up with anything that would explain _why_. It was irritating, because Chase knew he was missing a boatload of facts that were just out of reach.

And did Danielle's sudden disappearance from Terry's mind give him another fact, and he just couldn't make heads or tails of it? It had to. She and House had been led there by other facts, so it must make sense somehow. It had to fit.

"Why don't try to relax?" Chase tried to make his voice comforting, but wasn't sure it was working. To be honest, Terry looked like hell. The doctor in him was saying that it wasn't just stress making that pulse beat in the man's temple, or the swelling that was noticeable whenever his hands made a gesture. Something was wrong with him physically, but the other man wasn't sharing.

Terry rubbed a hand across the top of his head. "I know I should," he admitted, "but I've never really been without Danielle in my mind since we were both fifteen. This…emptiness…is just not normal for me. Sorry."

"S'okay." Well, it wasn't, but Chase figured he could fall back on his bedside manner.

More pacing ensued. Chase just barely kept himself from a little therapeutic eye-rolling. The man needed to settle down; this sort of stuff didn't do anyone any good.

He glanced over at Adam. His cousin was standing by the large window, staring out into space. He seemed oblivious to Terry's movements. Chase wished he had Adam's patience.

So, when Terry suddenly stopped, it was a relief. Chase stifled a sigh, glancing up at the Tomorrow Person. And was a little confused at what he was seeing.

Terry had his hand on his temple, right over the pulse point. He seemed completely distracted; Chase thought a bomb could've gone off in the room and the man wouldn't have noticed.

Adam came away from the window, heading straight toward the other man. Something in his haste brought Chase to his feet, even though he didn't know what the hell was going on.

Just as they reached Terry, he seemed to snap out of his trance. He was smiling in relief. "I got her back," he said simply. "She's fine." Then his eyes went blank again.

"They're talking," Adam answered Chase's look of confusion, "but it's so deep I can't hear it. Damn, that rapport is so far down it practically bypasses the conscious mind." He shrugged. "This sort of thing is all new to me –"

Then Terry snorted, coming back to himself. "You're not going to believe what they've found…"

Timus teleported into the room. "You summoned me out of a high-level meeting," he said, his voice sharp. "I do hope this will be worth it."

"Oh, I think you'll be surprised. Danielle and Dr. House are on the way back."

Chase shook his head, frustrated. "So? It'll be three days before they can transport back here – "

"They're jaunting in now," Terry interrupted. He was looking positively smug.

"Are you going to share?" Adam demanded hotly.

"I think it might be better coming from them," the other Tomorrow Person answered. "You won't have long to wait, I promise."

To Chase it seemed to take forever, but according to his watch it was more like 30 seconds when a group of people began to fade into existence in the corner by the panoramic window. He recognized House and Danielle immediately, and had to hold in a snort at the sight of his boss in that fancy-looking spacesuit.

They were surrounded by six aliens, all of them far shorter than anyone else in the room. They had white skin and hair, the only color showing in their eyes and matching streaks in their hair…and their clothing. Three of them were black; one was green; one blue; and the last something approaching a purple-blue, maybe indigo. There were three males and three females.

"Hey, where's the party?" House said the moment they were fully corporeal. But then he spotted Chase, and did a double take. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Chase smirked at his surprise. "Terry brought me."

"Hello, Dr. House." Adam stepped forward, although he didn't offer to shake House's hand. "I'm Adam, Robbie's cousin. I'm also a Tomorrow Person."

House turned to Danielle. "And you knew about this when?"

The redheaded woman shrugged. "Da day b'fore John vanished, we went ta see Dr. Chase. Dat's when we found out."

"You had three days to tell me and you didn't feel it was important?" Surprisingly, House didn't seem too terribly angry about it.

Which managed to confuse the shit out of Chase.

"So many t'ings started happenin' it slipped ma mind."

House just glared at her, but once again didn't seem all that mad. Then he looked at Chase, and smirked. "Robbie?"

Oh, God, House wasn't about to let that one rest for a good long time.

"Dr. House, Danielle," Timus broke into the conversation, "are you going to introduce us to your companions?"

It was then Chase knew why House wasn't mad at Danielle's apparent forgetfulness, because the smugness just started oozing out of him like sweat. He grinned like a kid who'd gotten that shiny red bike he'd wanted for Christmas. "As a matter of fact, I am," he said jovially. "This is Carela," he raised his hand over the head of one of the females who had black streaks in her hair; "Loran," this time he indicated the lone green, a male; "his sister Larha," the indigo woman; "Naral and Sarrel," the two black males; "and last – but certainly not least – Tala," the blue female. House's grin got bigger and smirkier. "They're Castalii."

Chase felt his mouth drop in surprise. Weren't they supposed to be all dead?

Timus was just as surprised, his eyes widening. Adam shook his head, and Terry whistled. "God, Danielle, you don't do things by halves, do you?" he asked, moving in for a hug.

She returned it, smiling. "Ah can' take credit, _cher_. It all be Dr. House's doin', really. He convinced dem ta come back wit' us."

"Dr. House can be very…persuasive," Loran said, laughter in his voice.

"Welcome, my friends!" Timus was smiling widely as he moved forward to greet the Castalii. "You have no idea how happy I am that you weren't all destroyed. May I ask how that was achieved?"

Tala met him. "I am the representative of the Castalii council of elders," she replied, returning the ambassador's bow. "I speak on behalf of my people."

House snorted. "Yeah, you do a real good job of that, too."

There was muffled chuckling from the Castalii still standing around him. Chase wanted to ask what he was missing, but kept his mouth shut. He knew he'd have better luck getting the story out of a rock than he would out of House.

Tala flushed at the comment, but continued speaking. "We have decided that it was time for us to come out of our exile and rejoin the rest of the galaxy."

House rolled his eyes, and there was more snickering. "Look," he said, "can we cut the official bullshit? We'd really like to find our friends now."

Timus changed immediately, becoming more business-like. "Then you have discovered what has happened to John and Allison?"

"Yep. And a huge chunk of the Castalii population." House leaned heavier on his cane. "First, we need to find the Magestrin world-ship."

So Chase had been right, the Magestrin had been involved. "We know where it is," he replied.

"So, you've been busy in my absence. Well done, young padawan." The happier House got, the snarkier he became.

"What does the world-ship have to do with this?" Timus asked.

"The Magestrin kidnapped hundreds of our people, many years ago," Tala answered. "For that reason, those who remained decided that it be best if they believed our race was dead, so no more would be taken."

"And that's where Allison and John are, too," House finished, looking a little put out that Tala had stolen his thunder.

Chase thought how weird it was for House to call Cameron "Allison." It just wasn't right, in his opinion.

"How do you know this?" Timus wanted to know.

"Because of the clone, and the fact that certain things the Castalii do can create traces of castalanium, including teleportation," House said.

"Yes, that is what sent you to Castalia in the first place!" The ambassador's face was stony in outrage. "The Magestrin cannot be allowed to kidnap Federation citizens. We shall sort this out immediately."

"What about the Castalii?" Carela asked softly. "They are not Federation citizens. Will you save them, too?"

"Do not worry," Timus answered. "We shall do everything we can for your people as well." Uttering that reassurance made him seem like Chase's grandfather all over again. "All of you come with me." He swept from the room.

It was like a vacuum sucking them all up, as the entire group followed in the ambassador's wake. Chase recognized where they were going: back to the control room.

He found himself walking next to House. "Welcome back," he greeted, trying to be at least civil to his boss.

"I'm sure," House answered, "you'd have been more than happy if I didn't come back at all."

Chase rankled. "Not hardly. I don't want to have to explain to Cuddy how you went off and got yourself killed."

House actually laughed at his response. "Oh, the Dragon Lady isn't that bad. Just compliment her boobs, and she'll roll over for you."

It was Chase's turn to laugh.

The Magestrin world-ship was still on the viewscreen when they entered the control room. House whistled in appreciation. "Now, that's what I call a spaceship!"

Timus marched up to the communications console. This time, a humanoid with green skin and gills lining his neck sat there. "Open a channel to the Magestrin ship," he ordered.

The technician complied. After a few seconds, the alien said, "We are receiving a signal."

The screen changed, becoming the Magestrin control room once more. The damage seemed to be well on the way to being fixed; the scorched panels had been replaced and there was no longer any trace of fire. There was a different Magestrin greeting them his time: it was a woman, with the same smooth head and dark skin as the captain had had. "How may I help, Ambassador?" she asked coldly.

"I wish to speak to Captain Kalakashar at once." Timus demanded, not even trying to be nice.

"I am sorry, but the Captain is detained – "

"I must insist. It is a matter of the gravest importance."

The woman sighed. "Of course, Ambassador. Please wait." The screen went dark once more, showing the floating ship.

"If they don't respond in five Earth minutes, hail them again," Timus ordered the technician. Then he turned to his audience. "I should like Tala beside me when the captain answers. I want to see his reaction."

The blue Castalii woman looked frightened. "Is that wise?"

"Trust me, Tala; it is. He needs to know that we have the proof of what he and his people have done. That will give us certain leverage."

It seemed to take forever, to Chase, but it couldn't have been the entire five minutes before Kalakashar appeared on the screen. The Magestrin looked pissed, but trying to hide it. "What can I do for you, Ambassa – " his voice faded out. His eyes were on the small woman standing next to Timus.

"Damn! Foreman has an alien brother," House murmured. "I always knew there was something wrong with him, and I thought it was just because he'd been in juvie…"

Chase smirked.

"We need to talk, Captain," Timus said smoothly, in his best ambassadorial tune. "It has come to our attention that you may have taken captive an entire group of Castalii and two Federation citizens. We would like them returned at once."

"I…I don't know what you mean." The denial might have been believable if the Magestrin's voice hadn't squeaked.

"I believe you do, Captain Kalakashar. And as kidnapping is against Federation law, we do have the right to board your world-ship and see for ourselves."

"This is sovereign Magestrin soil," the alien snapped, his anger coming to the surface. "Anyone who attempts to board our ship will be killed and it will be considered an act of war!"

"It was war the moment you chose to take Federation citizens against their will. And, believe me, the Federation doesn't take such things lightly."

As Timus was speaking, Chase was distracted by whispering behind him. He turned, and saw House speaking to the five other Castalii. Apparently they were agreeing with him; judging from their reactions to his words the agreement was whole-hearted.

House glanced up, and caught Chase's eye. Chase raised an eyebrow in question; his boss just smirked in return.

And then the six of them were gone.

Chase bit off a curse. Where the hell did they go?

Just then there was a strange noise from Timus. Chase spun, and his jaw dropped.

House was on the Magestrin bridge, standing just behind Captain Kalakashar.

"Excuse me," he drawled, to get the alien's attention, "but I'd like my doctor back now."

 

* * *

 

The Magestrin turned at House's words, and his eyebrows would have been raised in surprise if he'd actually had any.

House stood there, leaning on his cane, staring at the alien with the glare that he usually reserved for when he wanted his residents to scurry off like chickens with their heads cut off. This guy could've been Eric Foreman's twin brother, which made House feel as if he had a bit of an advantage, although he couldn't trust the Magestrin to act like Foreman at all.

"How dare you!" the man hissed, eyes narrowing in anger. "I formally declare war against the Federation – "

"Ah ah ah," House admonished, wagging his finger at the captain, "hate to tell you this, but I'm not a member of the Federation, and neither are my friends," he indicated the Castalii surrounding him, "so doing something that stupid would make you the aggressor. I'm not so sure you want to go and do that, now would you?" Well, House didn't know any such thing, but if a race of people were confined to living on a single space ship, he'd think war would certainly be the last thing they'd want to instigate.

The Magestrin's jaw snapped shut. He made a motion across his throat, and a technician touched a control on the console in front of him. Then the captain replied, "Then who are you, to invade our home like this?"

House had to assume that meant the communication channel between this ship and the Trig had been cut. Not exactly a surprise move. "Well, Captain Whatever-your-name-is, I want my friends back." There he was, lumping John into that whole "friendship" category again. Oh, well… "And the Castalii here want their people released from whatever it is you're doing to them."

"We have no idea what you mean."

"That denial would mean a lot more if you could actually lie. As it is, you're lousy at it, so you'd better stop while you're behind." House raised his hand to forestall the alien's retort. "Look, we'll be glad to leave once you've done the right thing and let our people go." Just how biblical did that sound? At least he wasn't calling down curses or anything. "We know you have them, so it doesn't do any good to say you don't."

"And how do you know that?" Now was trying to be sneaky.

"Just trust me when I say you wouldn't stand a chance in any court of law you can name."

"But, as you say, you and these…people…" the way he made that last word sound caused an actual shiver run down House's spine, "aren't Federation citizens – "

"But my friends are," House countered. "And one of them is a big shot among Federation circles. Look, let's just quit dancing around here and get this over with? I've missed over a week of my soap and I hate having to catch up."

The Magestrin captain looked confused by the reference, but House didn't care. He was there because Allison, John, and a lot of Castalii were being held on this ship somewhere. And he intended on getting them all back.

Even if he had to go through all the Magestrin to do it.

Then the alien smiled. "Of course you may have your friends back. They have been our guests, certainly, but I feel that they do not belong among us. You may take them and go."

Now it was House's turn to be confused. This Foreman look-alike was giving up without more of a fight? No freaking way! There was something else going on… "What's the catch?"

"Catch? I do not understand that term in this context…"

"I mean," House said slowly, like the man was an idiot, "why are you giving in so easily? You're up to something."

The captain smiled. "I said, you could take your friends. There is nothing more beyond that."

Then it struck House. "What about the Castalii?"

"What about them?" The Magestrin was acting far too innocent.

"Ahh…you have no intention of letting them go as well."

"Why should I? After all, they aren't Federation citizens. There is nothing the Federation can do about them, despite all their fine words. We can do with them as we wish."

House wanted to wipe that smug look off with a well-aimed punch, but managed to control himself. "You can't kidnap a race of people to do with what you want!"

"Can we not? Truly? The Castalii have no rights; they are a primitive people who once lived on the outskirts of populated space. They have no treaties, no connections…and are now apparently no longer dead. There is nothing stopping us from traveling back to Castalia and renewing our…acquaintance with them. The Federation cannot do anything to stop us. They have no jurisdiction over us, or the Castalii."

"We will fight you," Carela snapped. "You shall not take us so easily."

The captain chuckled. 'You pitiful little beings, thinking you can stop us! You are weaklings, easily taken and enslaved to do our bidding. We shall do exactly what we wish from you."

"Hey, do you mind not ranting so loudly?" House snarked. "There might be something you're forgetting here."

"And what would that be?" The alien was sneering so hard his entire face was twisted.

"You guys rely on trade for a lot of your stuff, right? I mean, you live on this ship, so you don't have the means to do for yourself for some things?"

"So? We are on good relations with many races!"

"And how would these races feel if they knew you were keeping slaves on your ship?"

Now that stopped the sneering, which was good considering that House was really getting irritated with it.

"And right now the Federation lets you come and go as you please in their space. But if they keep you out of their territory?"

"There…are others we can go to," the Magestrin answered, although he didn't seem to sure. "Cartel space…they take a dim view of psionics…"

House didn't know what this "Cartel" was, but if they didn't like psionics then he didn't want to go there. He, personally, liked them…not that he was going to admit it, of course. "Sure you could, but you couldn't go back to Castalia then and make good on your threat, could you? And, since you apparently like having slaves with special powers, where would you get them then? The Federation would certainly be on the lookout for you, knowing what they know. Now, come on…wouldn't be less hassle just to let the Castalii go? In the long run, it's just best for your people now, isn't it?" He was being condescending, but, well…he couldn't help it. That was just his nature…

"That will not happen," the Magestrin went back to sneering. "We own them, and we will keep them."

There was something else going on here, something House didn't know. He'd just given them the best reason ever for letting the Castalii go, and it wasn't being accepted. This guy _knew_ they were busted, but he wasn't going to take the easy way out. Hell, who _didn't_ take the easy way out? This just did not make sense!

Well, there was only one way to find out. "Just why are the Castalii important, anyway? Why do you need them so badly you're willing to risk everything to keep them?"

Oh, yeah, this guy was feeling oh-so superior. "The Castalii are useful tools, that is all."

"Tools?" Loran was sounding outraged. "That is how you see another intelligent race?"

"Of course! Intelligent? Ha! They are cattle, nothing more. We use them to power this world-ship!"

That was the answer House was looking for, but he didn't understand it. How were the Castalii being used to power this place? Unless… "You're using their powers, aren't you? Somehow, you're able to tap their abilities and force the Castalii to use them for your benefit." It made sense now, in a way. It was some sort of bizarre, thoroughly _evil_ parasitic relationship. The Magestrin used the Castalii for their own purposes. It was truly appalling.

Well, it wouldn't continue, not if House had anything to say about it. He wondered if these guys had ever heard of having an ace up one's sleeve…

He dramatically raised his left wrist…the one with the communicator on it. "I hope you heard all that," he called.

"We did, Dr. House," came Timus's voice from the speaker. "Tala and I have been listening to everything, and this slavery will _not_ continue."

"You can do nothing," the captain scoffed.

"You are wrong, Captain Kalakashar," the ambassador intoned. "Effective immediately, the Castalii are provisional members of the Federation, with the rights and protections of said membership. Therefore, you are currently holding hundreds of Federation citizens against their will on board your world-ship. You will release them at once."

"We do not recognize Federation authority – " the captain spat.

"Then you leave us no choice."

Suddenly, there were Federation peacekeepers all over the bridge, holding stun guns on the crew. Timus was with them, as was Tala.

"We have no choice but to board your vessel and release them ourselves," Timus finished in person. "You will surrender now."

"This is an outrage!" Kalakashar sputtered.

"Yep, sure is," House agreed, feeling pretty outraged himself. "What you've done to my friends and to the Castalii is the true outrage here. You're only getting what you deserve. Now, are you going to tell me where they are, or do I have to do some damage to you until you do?"

"You can do nothing! You have not the ability!"

House stepped right up to him, getting right in his face. "Oh, I'm not one of them," he whispered harshly. "I'm not as evolved. So, believe me when I say how much I'll enjoy hurting you. Consider it payback for all the hell you've put all of us through."

"Dr. House, that's hardly necessary," Timus interjected.

"Oh, I think it is," he answered, not turning away from his target. "You can't believe how necessary it is."

The captain tried to stare him down, and House had to give him credit for _some_ balls. But he'd do anything to find Allison, and if it meant being unevolved and kicking this guy's ass, he'd do it. He put all that hate and fury into his gaze, and very soon the Magestrin was looking away. "They are below," the alien answered. "At the very lowest level."

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" House turned to leave, but then changed his mind, cocking back his fist and letting fly.

The Magestrin captain went flat on his ass.

Oh, did that feel good…

"Now, _that_ wasn't necessary," Timus snapped.

"Sure it was," House said, over his shoulder as he headed toward what looked like a pair of elevator doors. "Made me feel a hell of a lot better!"

Well, it looked like elevators were the same all over, as he pushed the call button. The doors opened promptly, and he entered. He turned to wave jauntily back at the people on the bridge.

"We shall come with you, Dr. House." Loran, Carela, and Larha were there, standing just outside the doors. "We must see what these Magestrin have done to our people."

House grinned. "I was wondering what was keeping you."

The Castalii filed inside with him. As the door closed, House saw – with a great deal of satisfaction – the Magestrin captain slowly getting to his feet.

Oh, yeah, that _had_ felt good.

Now, to find Allison…

 

* * *

 

Cameron didn't know how long she sat there, on that cold deck, cradling John against her.

At some point, the Castalii attempted to get her up, but she was far too weak to respond, and her friend wasn't showing any sign of regaining consciousness despite what the healer had claimed. So she just remained on the deck, letting the Castalii move around her, not paying any attention to what they were doing.

It just didn't seem to matter anymore.

Eventually she slumped forward, resting her forehead against John's. She didn't try to call to him any longer, knowing he hadn't heard her first attempt. She would just have to wait for him to regain consciousness…if she lasted that long.

Dying was fairly easy, she thought abstractly. The problem with that was, she wasn't quite ready to give up like that. That she would die from this was inevitable, if they stayed on the world-ship much longer. But she wanted more than anything to make her death count for something.

She just didn't know how to do that, not in her condition. Cameron was just too exhausted.

Would rescue come in time? That image of House just wouldn't go away. She would've given anything to see it happen in reality.

Her mind just floated, but her thoughts couldn't escape the inside of her skull. Would anyone feel her death? Or would she be trapped forever, unable to escape from the bounds of her own flesh?

Would anyone know when she was finally gone?

She thought of her family, who already believed her dead. They might never know what'd really happened to her. As far as they would be concerned, she'd died in a car accident. Maybe that was for the best.

Or would House tell them the truth? Would he find out about her, and let them know how she'd truly died? That she'd died as a Tomorrow Person, and not a Sap? Would it matter to them at all? She'd still be gone, after all.

Cameron had no idea how long she sat there, but at some point she felt hands raising her up. She let them lift her, too tired to fight. The burst of energy that had gotten her to the computer core had been her last. She didn't even have the strength to ask about John, let alone open her eyes anymore.

Soft voices were whispering around her, but she couldn't make them out. Cameron just couldn't concentrate on them. She did know when they went down in the elevator; she could feel the slight change of pressure in her inner ears, like another ache she just had to deal with.

Would it be much longer? Or would she be gone before John even woke up? No, she didn't think it would be that fast. Her heartbeat was still strong enough, judging by the thumping it was doing in her temples. But it was obvious something was wrong inside her, and her inner doctor was trying to give her a diagnosis even as she stubbornly ignored it. What was the point, really? It would all end the same way, whether she knew how it was going to happen or not.

Every ache in her was amplified when the Castalii put her down onto one of the thin beds. Apparently they couldn't be bothered to move them into separate rooms, because Cameron could feel John lying underneath her. She was too tired to argue; and besides, this meant she'd know when her friend regained consciousness. Which was a good thing, in her opinion.

Cameron dozed for a while. She had no idea how long she lay there, but the opening of the door brought her out of her light sleep. She didn't have the strength to raise her head, to see who was coming in. She just hoped they'd go away.

"Shit!"

Her heart did a little jump, then settled back into normal when she realized there was no possible way she could've just heard House swear.

"Jesus…Cameron!"

Okay, now she was officially insane. She'd just heard House's voice _twice_ , and that was just impossible. She cracked open an eyelid, just to see who was playing such a really bad joke on her.

House could not be coming through the door, wearing an A-E suit…

Cameron giggled. She couldn't help it. Her mind must have officially gone around the bend, because House just wouldn't be there. Her imagination must be playing tricks on her; she so badly wanted House to come to the rescue, that it was showing her what she needed to see. She was more far gone than she thought.

Cameron giggled again. "My knight in shining armor…"

Her imagination had House kneel beside the bed. He reached out to take her face in his hands…

And she felt him. Really _felt_ him!

Her breath caught. "You're real…." She whispered.

"Last time I checked…" He was looking at her intently, his blue eyes in full doctor mode. His hands were warm on her face. Then he called back over his shoulder, "Loran!"

Cameron guessed "Loran" was the Castalii that bustled through the door at House's shout. He automatically looked very concerned, as he joined House at the bed. The alien's own hand was cool on her forehead. Then he touched John. "The implants are not compatible with them," he said softly. "They must be removed immediately."

House looked like he wanted to murder someone. "I still can't believe the Magestrin did that to your people."

"Neither can I. Nor can I believe my people went along with this…abomination."

"Well, I hate to say this, but your own bunch didn't exactly do the right thing here."

Loran sighed. "You are correct, of course. Now, it is imperative that we get your friends away from here."

Cameron didn't have a clue what they were talking about, but guessed – if she lived – they'd fill her in. Right now, the only thing keeping her head up were House's hands holding it up. She was so tired…her eyelids started to flutter, and she could only hope she'd wake up later.

"Cameron!" She heard House's voice coming from a long way away. "Allison!"

Well, that sounded nice…she wished he'd call her by her first name more often. She wanted to tell him so, but couldn't just then.

"Knight in shining armor…" she managed to whisper, just before darkness took over.

* * *

The first thing Cameron noticed was the sound of machines thumping in time with her heart.

The second thing she noticed was that the bed she was in was far more comfortable than she'd been in for several days.

Well, she certainly wasn't dead. In fact, she felt very much alive. Much more alive than she had in days, as well.

Cameron opened her eyes. She was staring up at an expanse of metal ceiling, although it wasn't the same sort of metal as her cabin on the Magestrin world-ship. It was comforting to know there was a difference.

She glanced around, instantly recognizing her surroundings as being a medical suite. In fact, unless she was much mistaken, it was a medical suite on the Trig…

Then she noticed who was sitting next to her bed.

It was House. He was dressed like his usual self – Cameron wondered if she'd imagined the entire A-E suit thing – and he was hunched over, twirling his cane between his hands. He stopped the moment he noticed her looking at him. "Well, it's about time," he groused, sitting up straight. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to sleep the day away…or whatever the hell time of day it is around here."

"I thought…I thought I was seeing things on the Magestrin ship…" She didn't like how weak her voice sounded.

Cameron was so utterly relieved to see him. She hadn't really realized how much she'd truly missed him, until that moment. She'd completely given up on ever being together again, that him being there was like a weight off her chest. There were so many things she wanted to say to him…but they were a logjam in her throat. All she could do was look at him, the tears forming in her eyes.

"Oh, God, you're not going to cry, are you?" House asked brusquely. "If you do, I'll have to smack you."

Cameron laughed. "No, of course not."

"Good, because that would make me lose all respect for you if you start acting all girly on me." He leaned all the way back in his chair, dragging his bad leg up until his heel rested on the bed beside her. "So, you needed a vacation so bad you had to pretend to be dead to get one?"

"Anything to get away from you," she rejoined, the laughter not leaving her voice.

"Yep, my middle name is "Heartless Bastard". Gave me all sorts of grief in school until I was finally able to show them my parents weren't being facetious."

Oh, yeah, she'd _really_ missed him. She grinned. "I'm sure that didn't take very long."

"You'd be surprised. Some people just don't learn." He rolled his eyes. "It was like trying to teach monkeys to write Shakespeare. Good thing I have you, Chase, and Foreman. At least I've finally gotten you all trained up the way I want."

That comment sobered Cameron. Everyone she'd known back on Earth thought she was dead. There was even a body to prove it. "Well, I guess you'll have to train someone else now, won't you?"

House looked at her like she'd just grown a second head. "What, you think I should get rid of Chase or Foreman?"

Now it was time for Cameron to roll her eyes. "No, I meant…me."

He snorted. "You're not getting away from me that easily. Not after all the trouble I went to, to find you."

"I'm officially dead, House. I can't just walk back into the hospital and ask for my old job back!"

"Don't you worry about that. Leave it to us." He waved a hand in the air negligently.

Cameron looked at him narrowly. "What do you mean by "us," House?"

"I mean Terry and I. You know, he's not that bad in the intelligence department. Too bad he's hanging out the fortune teller."

"You mean Danielle?" Cameron felt she had to stand up for her friend. "Her power is real."

"Oh, I'm sure. And I'm just as sure she really believes in Tarot, too."

"As a matter of fact, she does, but that was how she was raised. John has tried for years to get her to put the cards away, she doesn't really need them anyway, but it's what she knows. They're only a concentration object, actually, but no one can convince her of that. And, before you ask, a concentration object is something a psychic sometimes uses to focus their power." She didn't want to fight with him. Not now.

"Well, for your information, I wasn't going to ask," he answered somewhat defensively.

"Good." Cameron went back to staring up at the ceiling. She wanted to get on some sort of neutral subject, and her mouth was open before she knew what she was going to ask. "So, care to share what's been happening while I was gone?"

And House did. The story took a while, but he apparently wasn't going to skip any of the details. He explained how he'd been contacted about her "death": how he'd called John and Tim, and how things had gone from there. There was something undefinable in his voice as he explained about seeing the body in the morgue, and how John had convinced him that Cameron had still been alive.

Then he went on about their investigation, and how that investigation had led him and Danielle to Castalia…and how they'd discovered that the Castalii were really alive. And then, he got to the rescue on board the Magestrin world-ship.

Through it all, Cameron just lay there, becoming more and more amazed by the moment. Some she'd already known from John; but from his capture everything House told her was new to her. And, when he revealed that the Castalii had destroyed their own homeworld in order to escape further kidnappings from the Magestrin…she had to admit, that had been a little extreme. All they'd had to do was call for help…

"So, the Castalii now have a treaty with the Federation?" Cameron asked, when House was done.

"Well, a temporary one, for the moment. But they're working on a permanent one now, and it should be in place soon."

"Good. And what about the Magestrin?"

House snorted. "They're in more trouble than they bargained for. Which I'm sure you now about, since you know how their world-ship was run." He tried to say it nonchalantly, but there was a steely edge of glee in his voice.

Of course she knew. The Magestrin had completely retooled their ship to operate using the Castalii as power and control, and now those Castalii were gone. Cameron thought about Cardesh, and the other elders, who'd truly believed they'd done the right thing in giving in to the Magestrin. But then, their kin had gone into hiding to avoid another confrontation…it seemed their race were the ultimate passives.

She reached behind her head. There was a large bandage there, where the Magestrin socket had once been. Apparently it had been removed while she was unconscious.

House must have noticed the movement, because he said, "It took a bit of work to remove it. That…thing…had been pretty much entwined through the parts of your brain where your powers come from." He sounded disgusted.

"And my powers? Will they come back?" Cameron really didn't want to know, but she had to. If she had to go back to living like a Sap, well…she could do it. But she didn't think she'd get used to it again.

"You should have full use of your powers in a couple of days."

She was so relieved, she let loose the breath she didn't realize she was even holding. "And John?"

"He's fine too. Although, after Elena had reamed him a new one, he might not think so." He chuckled. "You know, they say these rooms are shielded against outside influences, so the patients can heal in peace, but I think the entire Trig heard _that_ particular argument. Say, do those two have something going on?"

"No." Although Cameron thought they should…

"Hmph. You'd never guess it by the way they fight. She wasn't at all happy that he hadn't contacted her when you went missing, and she wasn't afraid to let him know it. I wish I'd had the popcorn concession…I would've cleaned up."

"Sorry I missed it."

"I can give you the blow-by-blow if you want – "

He was stopped from elaborating by the door sliding open. Cameron's jaw dropped open when she saw it was Chase standing in the hallway. "Can I come in?" he asked.

Cameron glanced at House. "And you were going to tell me this _when_?"

House shrugged, completely unconcerned. "I didn't think it was important."

"It's not important that one of my co-workers is here, on a space station light-years from Earth?" Her voice actually screeched.

"Should I come back later?" Chase asked, looking completely caught off guard.

"Yes!" House snapped.

"No!" Cameron overrode him. She waved him into the room.

Chase wasn't alone; a man about Chase's age followed him in. There was a distinct family resemblance, although the other guy's hair was somewhat darker. "Glad to see you up and awake," Chase said by way of greeting.

"Glad to _be_ up and awake," she answered, looking daggers in House's direction.

Her boss didn't seem to mind. He just sat there, leaning back, his cane resting on his knees.

"I wanted to introduce you to my cousin, Adam," Chase went on, glancing between her and House.

"Nice to meet you." Adam stuck his hand out. "Any friend of Robbie's…"

Cameron took it, and even though her powers were diminished at that moment, she knew immediately what Adam was. "Hi," she answered in return. "Glad to finally meet you." She glanced at Chase. "So, you knew about me? For how long?"

Chase looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well, pretty much since your friend was in the hospital. You didn't give me much to go on, but I was able to figure it out eventually."

"I see…" She shook her head wryly. Then she grinned. "Robbie?"

"Oh, God, not you too…"

Cameron snickered. This was going to be too good to pass up.

"By the way, Dr. House," Adam replied, "John asked me if I could ask you to come round to his room for a bit."

"Sure," House said grudgingly. He swung his leg off the bed, levering himself to his feet. "Is the coast clear?"

Adam smirked. "Elena's gone, if that's what you mean."

"You read my mind."

"Didn't have to do that, mate. That was some spectacular row, wasn't it?"

"You're not kidding." House turned to leave. But, as he walked past the foot of the bed, he reached out and tweaked one of Cameron's toes.

She was surprised at the contact, but enjoyed it anyway.

 

* * *

 

"Well, I see you have all your limbs still attached."

John looked up at the remark. To House's trained eyes, he looked pretty good for a guy that'd had a weird piece of alien technology hard-wired into his brain. The elder Tomorrow Person looked a little confused for a second; then it apparently hit him as to what House meant. "Yes, I do," he answered, as dryly as House's own comment had been. "Elena's bark is much worse than her bite."

"I should hope so." House helped himself to the seat next to the bed, resting his cane on his knees. "You summoned me?"

John rolled his eyes. "I don't think anyone could summon you anywhere you didn't want to be, Dr. House."

"Well, it's about time someone realized that."

The other man didn't dignify that with an answer. "How is Allison?"

"Doing better," House answered, going serious. "It was close."

"I know." John sighed. "It's a good thing you came when you did. Although, the companions you brought with you were quite the surprise. I understand the Castalii have asked that you become their Ambassador to the Federation." He looked amused.

House had been equally amused when Tala had made the request; but at the same time, he was genuinely touched by it. "Yeah, the least diplomatic person in the universe is asked to be a diplomat. Would you like cream and sugar with your cup of irony?"

John chuckled, then went serious again. "You've done good work with them, convincing them to rejoin the galaxy once more."

"But they'd still be better off with an experienced diplomat." House wasn't used to being so self-deprecating, and it ground against his natural superiority. But he was well aware of his shortcomings, and had to confess to them in this case. "Besides, if I accepted, who would keep Cameron, Chase, and Foreman in line? It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it."

"I understand." He did; House could tell. "Speaking of Allison, have you finished working out the details with Terry about getting her back to her normal life?"

"Sure have. It's going to be pretty simple, despite everyone thinking she's dead. You were going to send someone to get her family, right?"

The TP nodded. "Paul should be back with them shortly."

"Good. Cameron will be glad to see them. She's going to be down for several days, at least. She could probably use the company."

"You aren't going to stay?"

"The Castalii want to me attend some parties." House shuddered. "Never liked all that politicking stuff. I'd prefer working in the clinic, and that's saying something. But apparently it would be some sort of insult if I don't go, so the least I can do is not cause a diplomatic incident before I go."

"I'm certain Timus would appreciate that."

"No doubt he would." House stood. "Was there anything you wanted or was this just because you were bored?"

"I just wanted to know how Allison was doing, really."

"She'll be just fine." He turned to leave.

"Dr. House."

He turned at John's call. "What?"

"Thank you."

House cocked an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For being there, for Allison."

"Hey, I didn't want to have to hire someone else. It's a pain in the ass…resumes, transcripts, interviews…" he answered flippantly.

Judging by the look on John's face, he wasn't buying it. "As you say."

House met the other man's eye. "We both know the real reason. Let's just leave it at that."

"Agreed. Good luck, Dr. House."

"Thanks. I'm going to need it." Just as he was turning to leave, House stopped and turned back. "By the way…it's Greg." Then he left, the room's door swishing shut behind him.

 

* * *

 

House limped through the hospital's entry doors and past reception, ignoring the surprised glances that followed him. Let 'em stare, he had other business to attend to…

He stumped toward Cuddy's office.

"House!"

Well, he shouldn't have expected to get there without being intercepted. He turned. "Hey, Jimmy," he greeted, giving his friend his best sarcastic smile. "How's that nurse up in pediatrics?"

Wilson looked positively stunned by that response. "You've been gone for almost two weeks, and that's all you have to say?"

House started back toward Cuddy's office. "What else is there to say?"

"Well…there's hello…how are you? Sorry I haven't called?"

"Hello. How are you? Sorry I haven't called."

The oncologist snorted. "Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome."

House kept walking, watching Wilson out of the corner of his eye. The man looked worried, and it bothered House a little that he couldn't tell his friend where he'd been and what had happened, but it had to remain secret. He wasn't about to betray Cameron, even to the only man who could actually stand him.

Besides, the last thing he wanted was to end up in the psych ward.

House entered Cuddy's office without bothering to knock…but then, he never did so why should he start now?

The dean was sitting at her desk, her glasses perched on her nose as she did paperwork. She glanced up at the intrusion, looking surprised. "House?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out." He made himself at home in one of the chairs. "Good to see nothing changed while I was gone…although, is that a new blouse? Those ruffles are strategically placed, I must say."

Cuddy snorted. "Glad to see you back. My life has been so quiet since you've been gone. I was beginning to get bored." She removed her glasses, the better to pin House with that glare of hers.

Not that it ever affected him, of course. "Have you been keeping my people busy while I was gone?"

"Of course. Although, Chase just got back a couple of days ago from vacation – "

"Should have known you'd go all soft on them." Actually, it had been Chase's idea that he come back first. "Well, I'm back now, so there won't be any more of that. And, I've found a replacement for Cameron."

He had the pleasure of seeing Cuddy go completely silent. Wilson looked shell-shocked and was spluttering incoherently.

Oh, they just made this so easy. "What?" he asked innocently.

"You know that any new hires have to be approved by me," Cuddy snapped, irritated.

"Duh. That's why I brought her with me."

"You did?" Wilson practically squeaked.

"Sure, she's waiting outside." House pulled out his cell, hit speed dial, and when the call was answered said, "You can come on in now." Then he snapped the phone shut. "Had to have another woman on the team, if just for eye candy…"

"House, can't you be serious about anything?" Wilson asked plaintively.

"Sure I can. I'm serious about the eye candy thing. Ugly girls just make the patients all cranky." House couldn't say how much he was enjoying this.

They didn't have long to wait.

Terry came in first, looking terribly official in a dark suit, proper tie, and a long duster-like coat. He held the door open for his companion, who was swathed head to toe in coat, scarf, balaclava, and hood. Sunglasses covered her eyes.

House wouldn't have known her if he wasn't already in on the plan.

"I know that guy…" he heard Wilson murmur.

House smirked. "This is Dr. Cuddy, and Dr. Wilson," he introduced. "This is Special Agent Terry Anderson, with the F.B.I."

He had the satisfaction of seeing Cuddy completely gobsmacked. She stood. "It…it's nice to meet you, Special Agent Anderson." She held out her hand, but House guessed it was more out of habit than anything else.

Terry took it. "A pleasure, Dr Cuddy." In turn, he offered his hand to Wilson, who stared at it for a second before taking it. "Dr. Wilson."

"House, I'm going to ask once time only," Cuddy said, "but what the hell is going on?"

"I think I can explain," Terry answered. He turned around. "You can show yourself now."

It was like watching a really slow striptease. First the hood was pushed down, then the sunglasses came off, followed by coat, and finally the stocking mask.

To reveal Allison Cameron.

House wanted to laugh, seeing the shock on both Wilson's and Cuddy's faces. He settled for a snarky smile. "Here we are, my new employee. Don't you want to interview her, Cuddy?"

Cuddy actually sat down hard. She stared up at Cameron, her face gone white. "I refuse to believe in ghosts."

"I'm not a ghost, really," Cameron answered. She looked about as amused as House felt.

"I apologize for any inconvenience," Terry went on, "but we had to make people think Dr. Cameron was dead. It was for her own safety."

"You were at Cameron's memorial," Wilson finally put it together.

Terry nodded. "We had to make sure that Dr. Cameron's "death" was convincing. It was vitally important. To put it bluntly, Dr. Cameron saw something she shouldn't have, and it was imperative that we place her into witness protection and to make the ones after her believe she was no longer a threat."

"But…there was a body…" Cuddy replied.

"Yes, it was a young lady who'd died in a car accident, and she was close enough to Dr. Cameron's height and weight we felt we could get away with it. And we would have, too, if not for Dr. House's insistence on seeing the corpse. He knew it wasn't Dr. Cameron, so we had to bring him into the plan."

"You knew…all this time!" Wilson accused.

"Sorry, couldn't say anything." Surprisingly, House was sorry he couldn't confide in his friend. "We couldn't risk it."

"And her parents?" Cuddy wanted to know.

"They didn't know, until just a few days ago. If her family didn't mourn her, then it would make people suspicious."

House remembered the reunion of Cameron and her family on the Trig; it had been boisterous and joyful, and he'd had to leave because he'd felt like an interloper.

"But everything has been cleared up," Terry finished, "and Dr. Cameron can come back to work. We felt it best if she come in covered up, to avoid any shock her sudden appearance might cause."

"Yes, of course." Cuddy was a little put out. "But you could have informed me, Special Agent Anderson, that one of my employees was going to be a federal witness."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cuddy, but it was too dangerous. It was even too dangerous for Dr. House to know, but we didn't have any control over that. He found out on his own, and we couldn't risk him telling others that it wasn't Dr. Cameron's body in the morgue."

House shrugged at the daggers Cuddy was flinging in his direction.

"Well, I should be going," the Tomorrow Person said. He turned to Cameron, shaking her hand. "Good luck, doctor. We'll be in touch."

"Thank you, Special Agent Anderson. I appreciate it." Something passed between them, but House was certain he'd be the only person to catch it.

Terry nodded to everyone else, and left, closing the door behind him.

"So," House drawled, "do you approve of my new resident? Or do I have to go through the process to find someone else?"

"Oh, shut up," Cuddy snapped. Her face softened as she looked at Cameron. "Welcome back, Dr. Cameron. I'd better make some sort of announcement before you leave, or else I'm liable to have a bunch of fainters on my hands. " Suiting action to words, the dean picked up the phone.

Wilson took the welcome a step further, giving Cameron a hug. "Glad to know you aren't really dead."

"Me, too, Dr. Wilson."

"Hey, Wilson, better let her go or that nurse you have on the side might get jealous," House snarked.

"Oh, get over yourself, House." Wilson glared at him.

House grinned. He caught Cameron grinning back at him.

Finally, everything seemed right with House's world once more.


End file.
